Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said
by hey-torch
Summary: All Ron can think about is revenge. Revenge on the monsters that destroyed his life by taking hers...DH twisted by my twisted mind. Complete.
1. Act Of Contrition

**A/N: Alrighty, so this is my newest brainchild...and also my very very very first HP fic. I saw the preview for the new movie (which looks frakkin awesome) so I then reread the last book (which is also frakkin awesome!) and then this idea busted into my brainpart. To those who may be angry with the fist shaking saying: "Hey! You've got three stories up! What're you doing?" I say you can't tell inspiration when to come!**

**Another note to say that I'm fairly nervous about posting this guy simply because while it is a world that I love, I am nowhere near as familiar a guest in it as I am in the worlds of my other fics. I'm not a stranger, but I'm not as obsessively knowledgeable as I am in my other posted fandoms. So I hope you don't hate it or me for it.**

**Finally, a ginormous thanks and debt to smounged1989. He is an encyclopedia of HP goodness and has been my reviewer for this story. Reading every chapter and offering his insight, making sure I've made no grave mistakes in creating my version of this world. He is my bestest of bestees. The Sam to my Dean, the Wilson to my House, the Lucas to my Haley, and the Apollo to my Starbuck (minus the sexual tension).**

*Disclaimer: JK's, not mine. All I own is the spin I've set upon the world.

**Warning: There is darkness here. Physical, Mental, Emotional...there are shadows ahead. Turn back lest you lose yourself in them.**

Story title comes from what is one of the most amazing albums I've ever had the pleasure of hearing _"Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said The Last Time I Saw You..." _by the band Wakey!Wakey!

And all chapters will be named for songs I suggest you give a listen to.

All done…fingers crossed…Here We Go!

* * *

_"Just dust my heart and you will find there are no fingers printed there."_ - _'Act of Contrition'_ by Bright Eyes

* * *

X

It was snowing the last time he saw her.

Of course, he had no clue at the time that it would be the last he'd see her face. The final time her eyes would meet his; to roll them at his absurd behavior, or shine with the thirst to know more...know everything.

Ron had no idea as the trio set out to Godric's Hollow that Christmas holiday that he'd never again have another day with Hermione Granger.

The day replayed in his mind every time he closed his eyes. The final moments he'd had with her. Bickering back and forth about different theories surrounding their quest with Harry. He couldn't help but wonder how it may have differed if he hadn't taken off on them. True he'd come back the very next morning, but the initial act of actually leaving, abandoning them, it had done damage.

Though he regretted his decision immediately and was determined to make it up to both of them, he didn't forgive himself for causing that stung look of betrayal he'd seen in her eyes upon his return. Perhaps they'd have noticed something was off had she not been intent on resenting him and he on making good with her.

But that's not what happened.

What happened was: Bathilda was a snake, Death Eaters descended, and Voldemort led the charge.

There were jets of all colors from all wands. A flurry of sound and action and then he grabbed her hand and blasted a hole in the wall of the house, leading her out into the snowy street. Outside, they held their own as best they could against the hooded figures.

It was Hermione who happened to look up and saw through the upper level window of the house they'd just exited, Voldemort approaching a snake coiled Harry. She shouted, giving her attention to the boy that was chosen to save the wizarding world, and pointed her wand, shattering the glass of the window. The snake unraveled with a shriek of pain. Some shards must have hit it.

Ron stunned eater after eater, knocking away attackers doing his best to keep him and the girl at his side safe while hoping that The Boy Who Lived would find a way to escape yet another close encounter with the darkest wizard in history. Beside him, he heard Hermione shout the familiar spell.

"Protego!" Dividing Harry and the Dark Lord with a protective barrier.

Voldemort, being so much more powerful than she, placed a pale hand on the field and it shuddered, ready to break away.

"Harry!" she shouted.

Gritting her teeth, clasping her wand with both hands, straining to keep it as long as she could so her friend could get away. She concentrated on Harry. Ron concentrated on keeping them alive.

The snake-like man's long arm broke through just as Harry got to the hole where the window pane used to be to jump out. He reached for him, nearly grabbing hold, when a sudden burst of magic surged from the witch and knocked him across the room. Ron felt the heat of whatever she'd done and, shocked at the display of power from the girl, turned towards her; seeing it had taken a considerable amount of energy to do whatever she had done.

He saw her sway. He saw Harry jump, now with his own band of Death Eaters to get through before they'd all be safe. He saw Bellatrix aim her wand.

Instinct drove him, knowing without a doubt who her target was. He hid Hermione with his taller body just a moment before he felt the force of the jet knock him back with spectacular rage. So much force he was thrown backward and heard, more than felt, his own body crash through the wall of a decrepit old home. Ron thought he'd heard a scream, but he couldn't be sure. The next thing he knew, he was in the woods beside a small glowing fire.

When he'd asked Harry what happened, his friend explained as best he could offer.

The spell that hit Ron sent his body in such a way that it collided with Hermione, who he'd been standing in front of. As soon as he'd been able to, Harry had run into the broken house as fast as he could to get to his friends before it collapsed on them or, worse, the Death Eaters got to them first. He did this, he told Ron, thinking they'd both been knocked inside. Just as he'd uncovered Ron from the rubble of the mess, the air filled with the signature cracking sounds. Voldemort and his followers were gone and harry realized soon after that Hermione was nowhere near Ron. His mind deduced she must've been knocked aside, then, by the collision and he began to panicking search for his friend in the snow. It was well into the night when he concluded the reason they'd left him and Ron so abruptly during the attack. They'd stolen a treasure.

Hermione was gone.

Ron had been livid. A boiling pot for days. Blaming Harry and, even more so, himself for letting it happen. For not being able to protect her.

At the same time, the boys found themselves at a stalemate with one another as to what their next step should be. Dumbledore wanted them to find the Horcruxes, but if they went on with their journey without Hermione it felt as if writing her off as a casualty. At least, Harry was torn on what they should do. Ron was not. He was adamant that they go after her. But they had nothing to go on. No clues or hints on how or even where to get to her.

It was three days after Godric's Hollow that Harry's scar seared with white-hot pain. A hand clutching his skull, he nearly doubled over as voices and images filled his head.

_Hermione on a stone floor; writhing in unspeakable agony at the feet of a robed figure whose wand inflicted the pain. _

_A heartless cackle, reeking of insanity and a disgusting type of joy accompanied the scene. His friend screaming as he'd never heard before._

_The sound stopped after a few moments, the fruitless movements as well, save for the twitching after effects of the curse._

_Now she didn't scream, instead it was a sob he heard from her. She reached a shaking hand out towards her tormentor, her fingertips reaching the dark leather boots and Harry heard her stammer in a broken voice. _

_"Please."_

_A desperate search, a plea, for the slimmest bit of humanity. Now Harry's gaze lifted to the witch who'd only stepped back to keep out of reach of the girl on the floor. Bellatrix looked straight at Harry. He saw his long pale hand wave a gesture for her to carry on. With a smirk that told anyone who saw it that the heavy lidded woman truly enjoyed moments such as these, she looked back down at Hermione._

_"You dare touch me with your filthy hand?" she half asked, half screamed at her before swinging that same boot into her side. _

_"Disgusting mudblood." she spat. "Crucio!"_

Harry had kept the details from Ron. Not wanting the redhead to hurt the way seeing it with his own eyes cut Harry deep across the heart.

Over the next few days, Harry was given more scenes such as the first one. Each a bit different, each more painful and brutal than the last.

Ron was burning with rage. After each vision, he drilled Harry for information. Asked what he'd seen. What they'd done to her. What clues he saw they could use to find out where she was.

"There had to be something!" Ron had shouted at him more than once. But Harry had nothing and it angered him as well. What was the point of allowing the connection to stay open if he couldn't use it to help them...to help her?

On the ninth day after she'd been taken, Harry's vision brought him to his knees.

_Hermione was in front of him, shakingly holding herself on her hands and knees, looking as though she'd just been through another round of Bellatrix's favorite past time._

_Deathly pale, her skin coated in sweat._

_"Face me." the voice that wasn't Harry's hissed in his head._

_When she didn't do as requested, Bellatrix grabbed a fistful of her terribly matted hair and pulled roughly, forcing her straight up on her knees to look directly at the dark wizard._

_Harry's stomach lurched at the tear stained face marred with dirt and cuts. Her deep eyes swirled nothing but pain and fear as she looked at him; he never wanted to see such a look on anyone, let alone one of his best friends. Then the voice again._

_"You have a final chance to save yourself." it spoke with eerily calm tone, not as if a life hung in the balance right before him. "Is there anything you wish to say?"_

_Hermione whimpered and pressed her lips tight, refusing to speak, and shook her head._

_Voldemort rose at her response, folding his skeletal fingers within one another._

_"Very well." he began, then looked to the dark face of his most devoted follower who then nodded. _

_Bellatrix let go of the young witch, letting her fall back to the ground before her excitable voice filled the air._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

X

X

* * *

X

X


	2. Like You

**A/N: Just a quick poke here before we continue the story.**

**Many truths to the fact that in the last chap it did kind of seem like The Harry Show. But only cause for the sake of the story, they needed to find out what's what and hp and his satellite frequency of the Voldemort channel was the best way. **

**But trust me when I say Ron's pain immediately takes the center stage as it should.**

**Hope you likes!**

* * *

_"I long to be like you, Lie cold in the ground like you." - 'Like You'_ by Evanescence

* * *

X

Ron sat up, staring out the entrance to the tent with icy blue eyes. Harry slept behind him inside while he kept watch as it was his turn to do so. Sometimes, a lot of the time actually, he found himself wishing that the Death Eaters would find them. That they'd show up in front of him. He knew there would be no stunning if he saw them. It was all he could do not to mutter those unforgiveables at any passing creature he saw during the day.

His thoughts demanding silently towards them ''She doesn't get to live, why should you?'

But mostly, that thought was directed at his own being. He was still alive and walking and breathing, yet how much did he contribute, really in the big picture to everything they'd done?

A new intensity had filled Ron after first breaking down at the news of Hermione's murder.

When Harry shared that last horrid vision with him, keeping away detail and simply saying that they've killed her, Ron screamed at him for daring to say those words; for believing them.

"It's a trick!" Ron had shouted angrily holding on to his tears. "It's a lie, just like Sirius! Remember?"

When Harry, holding back his own emotions to try to help his friend, told him that he didn't think so, Ron lost it. Shoving his best friend hard against the trunk of a tree and screaming in his face.

"Shut your mouth!" he demanded with rage, his face as red as his hair. "You shut your bloody mouth! It's not true!"

Harry tried to speak to him, but the taller wizard pointed his wand at him. The tip directly in front of his glasses, burning with the threat of Ron's pain. Harry hadn't said any more to him that day.

Everything changed in Ron after that.

He spoke little, and what he did say was solely in the seriousness of their mission. No more sarcastic remarks. No questions, no easy talk or jokes. His focus was getting done what they'd all three set out to do; what she'd died for. In Ron's mind, if they didn't see it through it would be as if he'd failed her twice.

Ron knew Harry missed her too. Losing her so soon after Sirius and then Dumbledore was no doubt, nearly unbearable for him. But Ron also knew that their pain wasn't the same. And because of that, Ron didn't share his. Therefore, Harry was, more or less, mourning the loss of both his friends at once. By losing Hermione, he'd lost Ron as well.

What Harry didn't know what that Ron wasn't completely gone. At least, not as far away from himself as he seemed during the day. When he was alone, which was rare aside from his turns at watch in the night, Ron spoke plenty. He spoke to her.

Often he'd hear her voice in his head, his imagination and terrible longing for her to return concocted responses of the most Hermione-like manner. He wasn't sure exactly when he started to hear her answering him, when the pain got so bad his brain had to give it to him as the smallest bit of release from it. He supposed he should wonder whether he'd gone mental, but he didn't. He just kept talking.

The red head straightened up as the first hints of sunlight began to break into the sky. Another day was beginning, and his voice came softly with its arrival.

"Three months, two weeks and six days." he updated the count that changed with each morning and let out a pained sigh.

It felt like years since he'd seen her last. Everyday moved with the pace of decades and there didn't appear to be any light at the end of the tunnel. Everyday hurt.

"Morning 'Mione."

He closed his eyes and conjured up the image of her behind his eyelids.

Her standing there in her pajamas, absolutely beautiful even in her just woken appearance. A small but genuine smile on her face.

_"Good morning."_ he could hear her say, she'd have a hint of amusement at the fact that he was up before her.

He indulged in pretending a moment before reluctantly opening his eyes and returning to a world she was no longer a part of anymore. It tore him apart all over again; he still looked in the space of the tent where she should've been sleeping. Neither of the boys ever set up rest there, but Ron would sleep near it, facing it, imagining she were laying right there looking back at him. He rose and approached the sleeping hero.

"Oi." he stated simply with enough volume to know he was heard.

Once he saw him stir and begin the process of waking, he turned and exited the area, not waiting for him to rouse completely. That was how their days began. They continued to move, not staying in place long but not knowing where they were going. They lacked direction in their journey.

That night, in their newest location, Harry was to be on watch. But Ron was a much lighter sleeper nowadays, and he woke before falling completely into a disturbed slumber filled with what her last moments must've been like. Scared, alone, hoping for rescue, but never breaking regardless.

Ron found the tent empty, a white glow fading away. He quickly got out and followed, not able to stand the thought of something happening to Harry. The light led him to arrive by the lakeside in time to see Harry disappear beneath the black water. He wondered what he was doing and approached the water's edge when he felt a panic in his heart and jumped in after him.

He pulled him out along with the sword and, drenched in the icy water, immediately grabbed his friend and began shaking him.

"What the bloody hell's the matter with you?"

"The sword-" Harry began explaining, sputtering since Ron hadn't given him a real chance to catch his breath.

"You can't go off on y our own!" he scolded furiously, speaking more than he had to him in months. "Jumping into freezing lake in the middle of the night, you stupid prat!"

"It's ok." he stated though he'd nearly been strangled by the locket around his neck. "Ron, we've got the sword."

"No!" the red head hollered with rage. "It's not ok. You can't risk yourself like that!"

"Risk myself?" Harry repeated with a bitter chuckle and pushed Ron's hands off of him. "In case you've forgotten I'm always at rick. It doesn't matter what I do."

Ron stepped up so they were barely separated and the height difference was even more noticeable. He screamed with more emotion and volume in his words than he'd used since being told she was really gone.

"She died for you!" his statement, silenced Harry, whose eyes widened with shock. Ron continued. "You have to live. You have to make it better. If you don't...If you don't then it was for nothing. If you're not careful, it's-it's spitting on her. I can't let you."

Ron stepped back from him, breathing heavy, tears stinging his eyes and then she was in his ear again.

"It's not his fault. Please calm down." she always tried to keep peace between them and he knew she wouldn't like them fighting especially when they had to stick together.

Harry looked aghast at the unexpected eruption from Ron. He hadn't thought of it that way. His sole focus had been doing justice to Dumbledore's memory; he didn't think what his recklessness would do to Hermione's in Ron's eyes.

They destroyed the locket that night. It was only right that Ron be the one to do it. He swung the sword of Gryffindor with all the strength he had, shattering the object and the tricks it tried to play with him. When it was done, the red head sat in the dirt, leaning against the thick tree at his back, panting and flowing tears.

Harry came to sit silently beside him, he put his hand on his back, offering what comfort he could and Ron lifted his head and asked a question that had been on his mind for three months, and (according to the streaks of sunlight emerging over the horizon) three weeks.

"Harry?" he began, a tremble in his voice. "Have you seen anything else about her? About...About her body? Is she...do you know what they've done?"

Harry sadly shook his head, not able to tell his friend what he wanted to know. He'd had the same concern as Ron. He wished he'd see something about it, but feared doing so at the same time. After finding Mad-Eye's mechanical eye as part of Umbridge's decoration, he couldn't stomach what the vile beings might have done with his friend after ending her life.

"I'm sorry." was all he could offer, and Ron looked away. "We'll find her. Give her a proper burial somewhere nice. Somewhere she'd like."

Ron knew it was a farfetched thought that they'd ever find where she...her body...had been dumped or whether it was still in one piece. The thought made him nauseous. But he closed his eyes and let himself promise that as soon as he could, he'd devote himself only to that.

"I think by the water somewhere." he said musingly quietly though it wasn't Harry he spoke to. "In the shade of a tree, a good place for reading. What you think?"

_"That sounds lovely."_ he imagined her saying. _"Thank you."_

"Yeah." Harry answered, having no clue it wasn't his response his friend paused for. "She'd like that."

"Yeah." Ron whispered, barely audible.

x

x

* * *

x

x


	3. Like A Man Possessed

**A/N: Not a whole lot of reviews, but a bunch of alerts so I'm good. As long as people are reading it! And I'm guessing if you want to be alerted when it's updated that means you like it or are at least mildly interested. The chapters get longer the further into the story we get. **

X

* * *

_"My life for worse or better, I'm just craving for a cure" –'Like A Man Possessed'_ by Get Up Kids

* * *

X

At four months and two days, Harry and Ron had barely escaped the Death Eaters at the house of Xeno Lovegood.

Though, it was solely credited to harry. If Ron had had his way, he'd have stayed and fought. Killing them all for killing her. Perhaps keeping one for questioning to learn what had become of her body. But Harry blew the house and got them away, refusing to let Ron's rage cost him his life. Now, in the woods away from that situation he could hear her scolding him for considering such things.

_"They're unforgiveable for a reason Ronald!"_

But, as he often did when she was alive, he argued with her. Even though on a certain scale in his brain he was aware that since her words and voice were the creation of his own imagination he was essentially arguing with himself. One could go crazy just trying to make sense of that alone, but he didn't care. Nor did he care that she would obviously have disapproved of his dark thoughts. Even though she'd had far worse done to her, she still wouldn't ever condone the use of such curses.

But Ron only stated to the air.

"They deserve it." he told 'her.' "The worst for the worst."

No response came. He imagined her huffing at his thick headedness and walking off to keep from striking him. So her voice was silent.

Now Ron's thought on what they'd learned of at the Lovegood house. The Deathly Hallows. More specifically, Ron focused on the Resurrection Stone. If it was real, if he could find it he could bring her back. Her voice wouldn't have to be the manifestation of his desperate need for her presence. Hermione could actually be in front of him again. Her words could be hers...as they were meant to be. His heart leapt at the thought. At the mere possibility of his eyes falling over her form again; of the girl he so very missed being in front of him and his hand being able to touch her skin and feel its warmth.

He sighed, it was just a children's story. It wasn't real. Was it? Harry's cloak was certainly real enough. Maybe, just maybe, the others were real as well.

Ron put his hands in his pockets and kicked at the grass. His left hand closed in a fist around the small beaded bag, enchanted to hold everything they needed. Harry told him he found it in a mound of snow in Godric's Hollow that awful day while he searched for the fallen member of their trio. The dark hair boy gave it to Ron to hold on to and Ron did just that; holding it tight and always keeping it near him.

It had been weeks before he'd been able to open it for anything other than taking out or packing up their camp and clothes. But now, after more than four months, he'd been through everything inside it. He knew it all by memory. All her things still inside, her clothes, hairbrush, all her treasured books.

He sighed again and knew that, even if the Hallows were real, that wasn't what they had to focus on. His blue eyes saw Harry just outside the tent, muttering to himself no doubt about the Hallows he'd too easily been taken in with. Ron knew they had to finish the Horcruxes. They had to finish You-Know-Who once and for all. For everyone; for her.

He approached the boy and heard him in the middle of a thought.

"...Elder Wand's bloody history traces-"

"Hey." Ron interrupted, getting him to stop talking and look at him. "We need to decide where -"

"Ron." Harry cut him off excitedly. "It's real, it's all real! The cloak, the wand, the stone. We can find it, Ron. We can bring them all back. Hermione, Sirius, my parents. Everyone. We can bring them back!"

"We can't, mate." Ron disagreed. "We have to finish this, the Horcruxes."

"But if we have all the Hallows...his magic can't hold against it. The one who has all three-"

"If we were supposed to get them that's what Dumbledore would've sent us out for. But he didn't."

Harry shook his head and put his hand on either of Ron's shoulders as if he were an older brother giving advice to the naive younger.

"He gave Hermione the book; the book led us to this. Maybe he wanted us to find it on our own." Harry mused. "He always wanted us to figure things out ourselves."

Ron shook his head and took himself away from his touch. What would Hermione say? How would she try to convince Harry? All Ron could think to say at the moment was the same fact.

"We have to focus."

"Ron," he started, doing his best to convince him and pulling out the trump card that he knew Ron couldn't turn down. Underhanded as it may seem, he was only trying to get him to see the Hallows were the best course of action. "We can bring her back."

"Don't." Ron shook his head. "Don't do that."

True he'd had the same thought, the same desire to go around the world over and over again for a chance at having her back in his life, but he thought like Hermione would want him to. Logically. He put the logic and fact over the screaming in his broken heart. Having forced himself away from that thought and accepting that it wasn't the way, he couldn't handle Harry dangling it in front of him, tempting him with her life.

"I'm just trying to get you seeing clearly." Harry defended. "Don't you want her back again?"

Ron glared at him for being able to question that he would ever want anything else in his lifetime.

"Of course I do." he told him sincerely. "More than anything."

"Brilliant." Harry voiced. "So if we go after the Hallows instead, you can have it. Hermione could be standing right there beside you."

"She's not a bloody bargaining chip." Ron threatened. "Stop talking about her like one."

"Ron, I'm talking about becoming more powerful than anyone's ever been." he stated. "We do this, we don't need Horcruxes to defeat him."

"You're obsessed." he accused.

"Yes, I'm obsessed." he spat back angrily. "I'm obsessed with trying to end this. I'm obsessed with finally being rid of Volde-"

"Don't!"

"-mort."

As soon as the word left his mouth, a series of familiar cracks filled the air as if the sky itself were breaking around them. Ron didn't wait to see them; he just shoved Harry's shoulder and shouted.

"Go!"

And they ran, hurdling unearthed roots, tree trunks exploding as they barely out ran spells and curses being flung at them from behind. They came to a mutual pause behind a particularly thick tree, the boys gasped for breath, Ron pressing a hand to his side. Suddenly in a panting breath, Ron said to Harry.

"Shell Cottage."

"What?" Harry asked, chest heaving and burning with the strain of the unexpected run.

"Bill and Fleur's place." he elaborated. "We separate, runnin' in different directions, you go under the cloak. Meet at Shell Cottage."

"Ron-" The plan sounded all too much like a suicide mission for Harry's benefit.

"Come out, Come out!" the recognizable voice of Fenrir Greyback called through the woods.

"Harry," Ron said, pulling out the feminine bag from his pocket and shoving it in his friend's hands. "Two days. If I'm not at the cottage in two days, you finish this."

"Ron, you can't expect me to leav-"

"Remember what I told you?" he asked almost sounding angry. "You have to live through this. Right?"

"Two days." Harry finally forced out in reluctant agreement with a jerking nod of his head. "You'll be there. Then we'll see this through together. To the end."

Harry said it firmly as if demanding it of him, accepting no other course of action as an option. Without another word, Ron took off, shouting curses as he ran as fast as he could.

He heard Harry disappear and as soon as he did, his legs stopped in the dirt. He no longer ran, instead, he stood waiting.

_"What are you doing?"_

He didn't respond. Breathing deeply and gripping his wand tightly in his hand.

He could hear their coming taunts, their arguments; disagreeing which way they went or whether or not anyone was still there. Coming closer, Ron's heart pounded with anticipation. The adrenaline burning through his muscles. He'd give them what they deserved; his only regret would be that it wasn't Bellatrix at the end of his wand. It wasn't the witch who'd destroyed his world with him in those woods. But it was a start.

_"Ron, stop this!"_ the voice sounded more panicked. He wondered if it was the bit of fear that put those words in her voice, or if it was once again reason and logic_. "Go to Harry. Go to the cottage. Ron, Please!"_

Ron addressed 'her' only to say:

"I have to. They hurt you."

Before any other response could come, he saw a figure enter his view and immediately shouted as powerfully as he could.

"Expelliarmis!"

The wand flew from the man's had, landing amidst the grass and roots.

"Stupefy!" As soon as the unarmed Death Eater looked at him, shocked at what had just happened.

Ron quickly went over to where he lay and looked down at him. He wasn't quite unconscious, but he wasn't altogether focused either. After a moment of only glaring down at him, Ron pointed his wand.

"The Weasley." the man observed in a breathy voice. "So it is Potter that's here."

Bolts of hate burned from Ron's eyes. The Cruciatis on his tongue, he wanted to demand he be told everything. You had to mean it, really mean it, to use the curse...and there was hardly anything he meant more at the moment.

"Well, well what's this here?" Ron heard and spun around, now pointing his wand at Greyback. The horrid man looked upon him amused. "One day the Mudblood, now the ginger. The Dark Lord will be-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Ron's anger took control and he felt himself conjure the words he never believed he could, shouting them at the wolf man.

"Avada Kedevra!" the green jet shot towards the animal who dove out of the way just in time.

Ron shot another curse at him that hit the tree, bursting splinters everywhere. His temper and emotions were everywhere, affecting his focus. Before he could attempt another, a force smashed him between the shoulder blades and he hit the ground hard. Dazed and out of breath, he was looking up at the sky.

_"Ron, get up!"_ the voice begged him. _"Please, Ron get up! Ron!"_

But he couldn't. It was all he could do to gather the strength to mutter the few words before everything went black.

"I'm sorry."

X

X

* * *

X

X


	4. Vicious Traditions

**A/N: A ka-jillion thanks to you guys for giving this the time of day. :) More story alerts than reviews at this point, but I'm very good with that. It means people are reading and, so far, liking! **

X

* * *

"_He grew blood red vision for all their good intentions." – 'Vicious Traditions' _by The Veils

* * *

X

He came around slowly.

First becoming physically aware of his body and the fact that it ached all over. His body was on a hard, cold surface and there was a throbbing deep in the back of his skull as if he'd just been dropped there.

The events leading up to unconsciousness came back to him and he was instantly disgusted with himself. He failed. He had a chance and he'd been unable to follow through. He failed her again, and now he'd also failed Harry as well.

His mind lingered a moment on the fact that he'd actually used the killing curse. Ineffective, but he'd said those two words nonetheless. He had never thought it within him to use such a hateful spell. But then again, he never thought anything would happen to her. In all their adventures together as the trio, they'd all been knocked around and uglied up plenty by whatever they faced, but for some reason, death wasn't something he could ever see as a reality where she was concerned.

His eyes opened with painful reluctance and he saw still more darkness. Black as pitch. Such a thick abyss, he closed and reopened his eyes to ensure he was actually awake. When he concluded that he was, he squinted and tried to adjust his vision; to make out anything or shape in the shadows.

Nothing.

Only endless black.

Fear swelled in his chest but he quickly pushed it aside. They had already done the worst that they could do to him. Nothing that came now, no pain or torture could ever hope to come anywhere close to the agony already cast upon him.

Ron sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the silence of the dark room. He turned his head in all directions, though he knew he'd see nothing. But he moved as if to look anyway. He wondered if she'd been there. If in the very room he now sat, Hermione had been kept. Alone in the dark with nothing but fear for company. He suddenly realized he had no idea he had been there unconscious. He didn't even know if it was day or night in the outside world.

His count.

It was gone; ruined. How long ago was it, now, that she'd been stolen from him? It was morbid but he felt the need to keep track. Like it was a way to testify that the world changed; that her absence mattered enough to be continuously recognized.

If only his curse had hit its mark. If he'd only killed Greyback. Or had been killed himself, even. Maybe if he had, if he'd died, he'd finally see her again. Ron didn't know how things worked after you died. But he liked to think... he had to believe that there was a good place for the good people to go. He knew he wasn't the best person, but he'd deserve a place like that, right? All the good he tried to do, all the help he'd given to the side of light. If he could go there, to that place she was, he could hold her and tell her all the things he'd been too afraid to before when he had the chance.

Ron then had a new wonder.

In such an awful evil place as he was in, a place that may have hurt her so...would he still hear her voice? He hadn't yet. Would her presence, even if it were only his imagination, abandon him here? Too many pained memories, too many screams and cries and pleas had echoed off the walls of the prison for her to ever return, even as a figment in his mind.

That thought frightened him more than the situation of actually being a prisoner of the Death Eaters. With a shake in his voice, he spoke out; hoping his mind would react in the same slightly insane way it had done for months.

"'Mione?" he asked worriedly.

He did hear a response, though nothing close to what he'd been hoping for. As soon as his voice broke the silence there was a quick sound of movement. Something shuffling or scurrying in the dark. When he heard it, Ron jumped in surprise and scrambled quickly to his feet to move away from where he thought he might've heard the noise. After taking a few jerked steps his brain registered the jingling sound of metal links and felt the harsh tug on his ankle and he nearly fell right back to the floor.

His hands found a wall behind him which he braced himself on after discovering the restraining cuff clamped around his ankle.

"Who-Who's there?" he asked, trying to sound confident and unafraid. His hands blindly felt his body for the wand he knew he wouldn't find. They wouldn't have let him keep it obviously.

"Oi." he called into the shadows. "Just...Just say something, hear?"

He waited, his heart beating wildly. But nothing came; no voice. Only some more movement. In the heavy darkness, he realized that he couldn't be sure where it had exactly come from. The absolute power of the black around him was dizzying and he had no idea how big the room was or how sounds carried or echoed in there. The movement stopped and silence came again, but straining his ears, he thought he could hear breathing that wasn't his.

Heavy, hard breathing.

He pressed his back against the wall and made himself as flat as possible in case it was some hungry awful animal they'd put him in with to be lunch. Ron kept like that a few minutes; longer. Long enough to forget about the possibility of any other living thing coming upon the room until he felt his body reflexively jerk again when a heavy clang came; the breathing thing was moved again at the sound as well; breathing quick and panicked from what he now thought to be across the room.

Then a grinding screech of iron on stone as light slowly emerged from an opening door. He swallowed a gulp, the light only reaching a foot or two past the door after filling the rectangular space of the doorway. Silhouettes appeared in the glow of it and Ron's heart burst to flame. Feeling no more fear, only pure, unadulterated rage.

He gave no glance to the man on the left, his eyes only finding one place to shoot daggers.

The wire nest of hair gave the witch away before she spoke.

"My, my." the unmistakable tone of Bellatrix noted as she approached, her wand's tip alight with enough glow to make out her face as she held it up in the dark. "Look who's awake."

Ron felt a heat of anger as he never had in his life. Just hearing her voice made his muscles tense with the urge to strike her down. He glared at her with dark eyes and found his voice in a dangerous growl.

"You killed her." he said lowly.

She put an amused look on her face and cackled before saying to him with a tilt of her head.

"You'll have to be more specific." she joked as if it were all a game.

Ron took a step forward and she stepped back out of his reach as the chain kept him from acting on his impulse.

"Ooh! He likes to play." she said excitedly, turning to the man at her side, and then looked back into Ron's eyes. "I like to play, too. Your little mudblood found that out first hand."

Ron's temper again had him reach fruitlessly for the witch's throat. She laughed and a new voice came into the air from the man at her side. A silky drawl of aristocracy that could only belong to a Malfoy.

"Now, now, Bella." Lucius began, putting the handle of his cane on his sister-in-law's chest as if halting her. "Didn't you come down here for..." he sighed, as if the following word were an annoyance even to say."...it?"

"Yeah." she answered, still looking at Ron. "But there's nothing wrong with shopping the new toy."

She put her finger on Ron's chest, feeling his lungs expand and deflate with large angry breaths.

"I'm always looking for new toys."

"Get your filthy 'and off me!" Ron spat and slapped her touch away from him as if it were an infected creature that might spread its disease to him.

Then his body fell to its knees. The feeling of a million white hot needles pumping through his veins exploded. He never felt anything like it before. The pain was crippling and quickly he fell from his knees to the floor, every muscle contracting as wave after wave of indescribable pain pumped through him. The seconds it lasted felt like days before it stopped, leaving him breathing heavy and twitching as remnants electrified him still.

"He calls me filthy?" she asked with a shriek. "Me? While he chooses the company of mud bloods!"

"A piteous waste of pure blood, indeed." Lucius commented. "No matter. He'll talk, and then he can go the way of his precious mudblood."

Ron listened to their words from the floor once his heart stopped beating in his ears. He was furious for the way they spoke of Hermione, but lacked the physical energy to even lift his head at the moment. Somewhere nearby he heard a sick sound; something like the thud of flesh and stone and that same insane laughter.

He felt his ankle restraint release him, then the invisible bonds forcing his wrists together and pulling him up and along behind Malfoy. He tried to look back over his shoulder when a spark of light erupted from what he could only assume was Bellatrix's wand and she laughed, yet again, saying something he couldn't quite decipher as Lucius and his dark magic led him further away towards his own unknown and unstoppable torment.

X

X

* * *

X

X


	5. Give Me A Sign

**A/N: In celebration of the awesome fact that there's only about 16hours til I'm watching Deathly Hallows I'm making sure to get this up here today. I'm lovin the reviews I'm getting! High fives all around! **

**I do want to respond to a few that are asking about Harry's adventure while all this is happening. Here or there we **_**may**_** see a piece of what Harry's doing, but that's not the story's focus. For the most part, we're sticking with Ron and what's going down in the big bad manor.**

X

* * *

"_I'll keep you alive if you show me the way." _– '_Give Me A Sign' _by Breaking Benjamin

* * *

X

Ron flexed his fingers.

They were going numb in their position held high above his head. After being forced into another room of the dungeon, this one filled with the ominous glow of a few candles, the unseen bonds tightened and pulled his arms straight up with a simple flick of Malfoy's wand.

His shoulders burned with the force of the action, his feet having barely a ghost of touch on the ground beneath him. Despite his anger, Ron couldn't help but feel his fear grow exponentially as the white-blond wizard circled him like prey; sizing him up and making plans.

Lucius stopped in front of him, making sure Ron could see what he was doing. A silver tray hovered near him, waist-high. He slowly pulled his gloves off and placed them upon it, then taking off his dress robe and draping it over the enchanted object he waved his hand, sending it away. He walked calmly to Ron, looking at his own wand as he did so, as if inspecting it to determine if it were the tool he wanted to use. Still looking at the elegant piece of wood, he spoke.

"Where is Harry Potter?"

Ron forced himself to be strong. He was a Gryffindor. The hat put him in there for a reason, he had to prove it right; make her proud of him.

"Piss off." he told him.

Lucius cut his wand though the air with a sharp movement of his wrist and a cut appeared in an identical path across Ron's cheek. His head turned at the impact of it and he inhaled through his nose, telling himself to focus. Stay strong, stay the course. It would be so much easier if he could hear her. Just a moment of her voice, that's what he wanted right now. But the voice with him wasn't Hermione.

"Where is he?" Lucius asked again, his tone still smooth as ever. Not a spark of emotion in it in anyway.

"Don't know." Ron answered, which was technically the truth. He had no idea if Harry was still at the cottage or if he'd ever even made it there in the first place.

This time the wand sliced his shirt, a large cut slashing his pale chest. Ron couldn't keep from crying out in pain. He hung his head down, hair in his eyes and taking large shuddering breaths as his heart thundered with panic. The blood oozing out of him spread its warm liquid slowly down his torso, staining his shirt.

"Defiance will get you nowhere here, Weasley." Malfoy commented coolly. As if he weren't torturing someone his own son's very age. "You'll find I've an abundance of two things when it comes to these matters: Patience and imagination."

Ron lifted his head, unshed tears and fibers of orange hair obscuring his view as he looked at the man. His chest heaving, his voice came.

"This what you did to 'er?" he asked, his bleeding wounds throbbing.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "To whom?"

Ron's bloodied chest heaved with large pants, swelling with emotion as well as the physical pain.

"You-" a breath. "-know who."

"I despise guessing games." he groaned. "But I assume you're referring to the Granger girl."

Ron didn't confirm his assumption with a traditional response of yes or no. He felt the urge to cry and shout simultaneously as her name fell so easily from the monster's lips.

"D'you bring her here?" he asked, forcing a stronghold against the threatening moisture in his eyes. "Hurt her...like this?"

"My boy," Lucius began taking a step towards him. "I don't relish spending time with animals, nor do I appreciate having the air of my estate, even the dungeons, sullied by their inferior breaths. I spend only enough time with mudbloods as it takes to say two words."

Ron's only weapon was the glare he pointed at the older man. Lucius saw this and finished.

"To answer your question, No." he stated. "Consorting with the filth of mudblood prisoners is Bella's game." he smirked as if an amusing thought had just occurred to him. "She has quite the knack for making them scream."

"She wasn't filth!" His temper making him shout at his captor. "She was a person. Better than you by a hundred times. She was the br-"

"Brightest of her generation." he finished with a bored, unimpressed tone. "Yes, I've heard it before. Maybe she was. But she isn't anymore, is she?"

Unable to contain himself, Ron spit out at him. The aristocrat wiped a handkerchief over his face and turned steel gray eyes on the boy.

"Blood traitors." he spat with vile. "Almost as bad as the muggles themselves."

The man let out a small sigh.

"We've gone off track, now haven't we?" he paused again and began. "Potter..."

An eternity later, Ron was back on the dark floor. The need to simply curl in on himself ever present, but his wounds flared at the slightest attempt at movement.

The several gashes on various parts of his body had been healed only enough that they were no longer life threatening. But the burns were another story. The blisters already were boiled up and terribly tender where the rope had been. Malfoy was right about being creative. The unseen ties slowly began to heat up through the interrogation until it had been like hell itself had wrapped welcoming hands around his wrists.

Now the ropes were gone, but the chain was back around his ankle. He didn't understand that. As if he could go anywhere locked behind that heavy door. As if he could escape.

On his side, keeping his blistered hands up near his aching chest, favoring the pained parts of himself, he tried to escape; to find a bright place in his mind. Somewhere safe and warm and happy.

He was at school with his friends; laughing at the clueless first years with Harry, talking Quidditch in the Great Hall, stealing glances at Hermione while she focused so intently on her studies.

He was at the Burrow on holiday; Fred and George being fools, his mum setting a huge, hot meal and fussing over his friends as if they were her own children, sitting elbow to elbow around the crowded table secretly wishing it wasn't Harry or one of his brothers who'd spend the meal accidentally bumping or grazing him.

He was at Bill's wedding; dancing.

Dancing with her. True that he'd only had the nerve to ask her because he was terrified that Krum would sweep her off her feet yet again, but it didn't matter. Because while they were out on the floor and he nervously tried no to ruin the dance or embarrass her with his awkward unsure movements...she was smiling. And it was all for him. Those enchanting swirls of brown were only on him, and that was the greatest feeling he'd had in the entirety of his young life.

Ron nearly smiled at the memory, reliving it with welcoming arms, but his safe place was all too quickly ripped away from him.

A screech shook his peaceful bubble and the door he'd been brought back through opened again. The same amount of light penetrating the darkness and before Ron could get a good look; a tray slid his way, grating across the floor. Food.

"What's this?" he asked, though he doubted he'd get an answer. He was right.

He tried to see who it was but the silhouetted figure was already hunched down again, putting a second tray on the stone. Though he was not able to see specifically what was on it, Ron could still tell that there was less than was on his before it was shoved towards the opposite side. When the mysterious visitor stood to his full height the boy spoke up.

"That you Malfoy?" he asked. The dark figure paused as if he were caught doing something and it told Ron he was right.

Draco Malfoy.

"Twisted git." Ron spat. "Making daddy proud are you?"

His former classmate said nothing which was not at all in the manner of the arrogant bully of a boy he'd known at school. He was surprised the blonde hadn't taunted his situation from the moment he awoke in the dungeon. Malfoy began to leave, the door started to close, spreading the inky black shadows, and Ron called out.

"Can't eat in the dark.' he stated, testing a theory.

Draco halted again and in the air Ron could hear him mutter quietly seconds before the dimmest glow appeared hovering just above the plate. Then he was gone with the clang of the door closing behind him.

Ron looked at the small courtesy he'd been given and realized that his thought had been correct. The young Malfoy was, at least to some degree, sympathetic. Maybe Ron could use that.

His mind set that aside for the moment when his stomach grumbled with anticipation of being fed. He began inspecting the food he was given.

Bread, stale. Some kind of soup, cold. Water.

Probably all poisoned. He sniffed the hunk of bread but smelt nothing out of ordinary. But not all poisons had a scent. His empty stomach growled at him once more and he decided to risk it, rationalizing that they didn't want him dead just yet. They still had questions.

As he brought the bread to his mouth, he heard noise again from the dark before him. Small. Something slowly, barely, sliding on the ground. Remembering his company, Ron wished Malfoy had given him more light so he could see exactly what he shared the room with. It couldn't be anything favored too much, not the way he'd heard Bellatrix treating it. He pulled the tray closer to him and discovered the small light moved with it. Following attached to the air surrounding it. He cemented his discovery by moving it in a wider range, sliding it to the side and lifting it up. He supposed Malfoy knew a bit or two every now and then.

Pulling his leg as far as the chain would allow, Ron gently laid his body down on his stomach, wincing as the tender marks on his chest and legs touched the dirty stone floor. He pushed the glowing tray out as far as he could while still being able to keep a hand on it to bring it back to him. The light went with it and just a few inches from his own, his eyes came upon the other set of food. He was now able to see it contained only the bread and a bit of water. The slow shuffle came again. Much slower, he noticed, then it had been before the first time he heard it. Then something Ron didn't expect made him hold his breath.

A hand.

A frail human hand came to his limited view. Dirty and bloodied at the nails. He couldn't tell if there were nails left on any of the fingers. It came from the dark, sliding along the floor until the torn fingers touched the edge of the tray. Then, with what seemed to be great effort, the offering was meekly pulled into the dark with the retreating hand.

"Blimey." Ron whispered in disbelief, and then his voice picked up in volume just a bit. "You're no animal. You're a person."

He tried to get a new view on them, sliding his glowing plate to the side but saw nothing. No trace, they'd pulled back too far for him to see. If he pushed it any further, he wouldn't be able to reach it to pull it back to him again. He relented to bring the food back to him and sit up. Now with the knowledge that he shared the room with another person, Ron spoke into the abyss.

"You alright?" he asked, looking into the shadows for a sign of the presence he couldn't have imagined unless he'd already gone mad.

No sound; no answer.

"She hurt you bad?" he asked another question, knowing now it was a human being he'd heard receiving Bellatrix's abuse.

"She's nasty, Lestrange." he spoke, his voice then changing to its familiar morbidity and loss as he did. "She enjoys hurting people."

He looked down, holding his bread in the soup with hopes it would soften it a bit. Ron ate and drank while continuing to try to ignite conversation.

"How long you been here?" just as before he got no response. He wondered if maybe they'd passed out; from what he'd seen and heard a serious toll had been taken on them. It didn't sound like they were moving even anymore.

"I only ask cause, I had a friend...a good friend, I think she was here." he continued, not knowing whether or not his words were being heard by anyone but himself.

"Not that I'm asking if you've seen her. It was long ago; I hope you haven't been here long. But maybe, maybe you've been long enough to know what...what they do, where they put bodies. They killed her, you see."

He shook his head.

"Bellatrix..."he spoke, his voice trailing away.

As he wiped at his tears he wished they'd say something to him. He didn't want to feel so completely alone in hell. He didn't even have Hermione's imaginary voice any longer. If he could just hear something from someone. Someone who didn't mean harm and hadn't had some hand in the destruction of every hope he had in life. But still...silence.

With a sigh, he forced down the rest of the food. The water tasted nice. Refreshing on his sore aching throat. When Ron was done, he realized the light still remained after the food was gone. He hadn't expected that. He pulled the tray back and pushed it. Putting enough force behind it to send the flat object sliding across the floor like a stone skipping the surface of water. It stopped when it hit the wall.

He was disappointed that he hadn't found his cellmate with it. But he took the small victory that at least now knew the size of his prison. He supposed that was something.

Not knowing what else to do, he lowered himself to lie on the hard ground again. Wincing at the bouts of fresh pain from the day's events that rippled through him, he tenderly curled on his side as much as he was able.

Facing the light, he kept his eye on the faint glow as if it were a light at the end of his dark tunnel until he finally fell into the arms of exhaustion.

Ron dreamt that night...dreams of dancing with the girl he loved but never told.

X

X

* * *

X

X


	6. Cut Up Angels

**A/N: And the shadows continue to darken…really that's all I have to say about this…**

X

* * *

"_If we cut out the bad, well then we'd have nothing left." – 'Cut Up Angels' _by The Used

* * *

X

Time passed.

He didn't know how much; time worked strangely in the dark. Years can pass in breaths; minutes in decades. He had no idea how long he'd been there.

After falling asleep that first night - at least he thought it was night when he'd given in to exhaustion - he'd woken to the awful screeching voice of the evil witch he hated with every atom that made him. Shouting in the dark, but not at him.

She'd come down for one of her twisted reasons and found the lit plate glowing there in the dark. Ron woke to the despicable word of the Cruciatis being spat angrily somewhere in the shadows. She was mad and not in her normal sense of being insane.

She was furious. Screaming and demanding to know how it'd been done. Assuming, since it was on their side of the room that it was his silent cell mate who'd managed somehow to perform the enchantment.

Getting up to his feet, stumbling as in his just woken daze he'd forgotten about the restraint for a moment, Ron realized that not only did no answer or response come, but the poor soul hadn't even screamed or cried out while under the torturous curse. Knowing it was his fault, Ron was urged to stop her.

He had shouted for Bellatrix to stop. Said it wasn't their fault and for her to back off.

The reward he got was a blast that sent his body into the wall with a crack that echoed in the back of his skull. They weren't given food that night. After that, he didn't ask Draco for light; he resigned to eating in the dark.

Bellatrix, though she didn't often do much in the way of actually inflicting physical pain, still found delight in torturing him. When she was bored, not yet ready to play with her own "toy," she took great pleasure in describing things Hermione had been through while there. He'd yell at her, curse at her, pray for one chance to get to her. But for the most part, he could do nothing except listen and feel his heart break. Ron would be grateful that he was in the dark, that she couldn't see the tears she had the power to inspire.

His sessions with Lucius became worse and worse to endure. Knives and burns and beatings and always new tortures from the dark wand.

Currently, Ron lay flat on his back for it was the only way he could get decent breaths of rank air. Something inside was broken. Malfoy swung the cane with great force at his exposed body. The third time it hit the same area, Ron felt the explosion of what had to be more than one rib breaking apart. Every breath was agony to the point that he wanted to stop. Just stop breathing. Stop his beating heart. Stop living.

In all the time he'd been there, he continued to speak though he never got an answer or any acknowledgement other than the occasional noise of the movement when the door opened. Panicked shuffles when it was their captors, usually by the time it was Draco with their meal they were slow barely audible. The thought came to Ron that day of listening to the unnatural silence under the torture of Bellatrix's curse that they perhaps didn't talk because they couldn't; because of some cruelty cast upon them from the evil demons that came every day.

He'd taken to saying her name out loud.

When it got really bad; when the pain was too much. He said it to keep some anchor of hope in his heart. But more so, Ron spoke Hermione's name because part of him was worried, terrified, that if he didn't keep saying it, he'd forget it there in the dark.

He couldn't let that happen; couldn't let them take her away from him twice.

Just as he felt the fire in his chest die down and his good eye - the other one swollen almost completely shut - he was ripped back awake by that damn door again, opening quickly. He sat up in a too fast motion which reignited the hell in his injuries as Bellatrix all but bounced with happiness into the cell.

"Not sleeping are we?" she asked excitedly. "It's morning, and a very special day for both of you."

Ron didn't have a clue what could possibly make the day special, but he knew if it made her happy it couldn't mean anything good for them.

"Do you know what today is?" she asked as if he had even a chance of knowing. When he said nothing, she informed him. "Happy Anniversary, love."

"Anniversary?" he repeated, his rough voice lacking the vigor it used to have.

"It's been one week since you joined our happy family." she told him with a demented smile. "Do I get a present?"

Ron couldn't believe it. A week? Had this eternal hell truly only been a week? He was sure he'd been there a lifetime. But another thought came next as a different part of his brain spoke to him; he now knew how long. How long he'd been without her.

Four months, one week, two days.

He remembered then that it had been little more than a week after she went missing that she'd been hit by the green jet of light from the very wand that came to his face. It's bright tip making his eyes squint.

"Well?" she asked as if truly expecting him to have some sort of gift for her.

Ron only shook his head, not knowing what to do, what was going on.

"That's alright, darlin'." she told him patting his cheek twice with the palm of her hand harder than one would actually do if it were an endearing gesture. It was closer to being a slap. "Because I have something for you."

She pointed her wand at his ankle and the cuff popped open. She walked away, sauntering into the dark and extinguishing her light. This confused Ron even more.

What was the game? Was he supposed to run and she to chase? Did he even have the strength to do so?

Teeming with uncertainty and bracing for a pain he was sure to come, he pulled himself to his feet using the wall for support until he felt he'd be alright on his own. He waited for it: the catch, the attack. After a few heartbeats, he heard her voice bellow, bounce off the walls.

"Lumos!"

The room filled with light and Ron let out a cry of shock, turning to the wall, covering his face with his hands. The dark had been all he'd been used to since he'd been there. Even in his tortures with eldest Malfoy, there was never much. Only a few candles. This light stabbed his eyes and shocked his heart into rapid percussion. He stayed that way for a few moments before he forced himself to turn around. His hands still shielding the brunt of it from his eyes, he blinked repeatedly and squinted trying to make it less of an assault on his delicate orbs.

Finally able to look out at his surroundings for the first time, he looked across the room. He saw Bellatrix in all her pale faced madness and gothic glory. But that wasn't where his attention went. Ron saw the shaking figure on the dirty ground at her feet. Knees drawn up, arms up, the quivering twitching limbs attempting to shield the brightness just as Ron had done.

But it was the hair that made his hands drop and his heart forget how to beat.

Dark with caked dirt, blood and sweat. Matted and tangled and uneven in places. Even with all of it, he'd recognize it if he were blind.

No. No, no.

"Hermi..." his voice broke in half.

No it couldn't be. Merlin, please no.

Don't let it be her. Don't let it be that she's been here this whole time. Four months, one week, two days.

"Mione?" he said her name, tears sliding down his cheeks. He shook his head.

Bellatrix was positively giddy. She smiled widely at him.

"You like it?" she asked.

Ron suddenly was filled end to end with an indescribably fury. It gave him a burst of adrenaline, removing all trace of injury or pain in his mind. He shot from the wall, no longer restrained; his aim was Bellatrix and a violent death for her. And Ron was knocked back, colliding with the force of the shielding spell she cast just before he could get there. It divided the room him on one side, Hermione on the other as the same spell had done that night in their tent so long ago.

But this time there was nowhere and no way for Ron to go, and it wasn't Harry with her on the other side.

Recovering quickly from his tumble, Ron stood again getting as close to the magic that was meant as protection as he could. The witch smirked with delight at Ron then looked down at the still cowering girl. Shoving her with a booted foot, she knocked her to the floor. Hermione instantly curled up, still hiding behind shaking thin arms, still trying to protect herself.

"Stop!" Ron shouted at the action. "Don't you touch her!"

"Like this?" this time she kicked her. Her foot connecting with the back of her prisoner.

The girl rolled at the painful impact. On her stomach now, cheek heavily upon the rough floor, she was facing Ron. Looking his direction with eyes he'd dreamt of for so long. Ron lowered himself quickly to the floor on his side of the barrier, scrambling close, connecting their gazes.

Hers was different than he'd ever known it. Wide and fearful, almost wild with pain and knowledge of dark torture.

"Hermione?" he said her name with a breaking voice again. He searched her eyes, looking for something, a spark of recognition or a sign that the girl he knew was still there.

So long. So long in there; fated as Bellatrix's plaything. He couldn't believe it; he'd left her to them. He and Harry let them have her for months without looking. He wanted to sob never-ending apologies for it.

Then her body rolled and wrenched and convulsed with the tell-tale signs of the crucio that he hadn't even heard said and the horrible agony it inflicted. Ron's eyes went wide with horror and he rose to his knees.

"No! No, no! Stop!" he demanded heartbreakingly watching her writhe and twist and scrape against the hard ground.

"Leave her alone!" he shouted. "Stop!"

He watched her mouth open as if to scream but no sound escaped. It shattered him so deeply and he knew he was crying again, or perhaps he hadn't stopped yet. Then it was lifted and she lay still, covered in sweat and a few new patches of open skin from the floor on her back, chest moving erratically with uneven breaths, facing the ceiling with eyes half closed.

Bellatrix stood at her head and leaned over her.

"Want me to stop, mudblood?" she asked. "Say so."

Black lidded eyes looked back at Ron with amusement.

"See?" she taunted. "Mudblood _likes_ to play."

"What'd you do to her?" Ron demanded to know. Knowing now for sure that the silence had never been intentional. Just another sick move by the witch.

"Where's Potter?" she asked suddenly turning to him.

"What?" Ron asked in return, the question catching him off guard, his mind only had one focus. At his response, Bellatrix turned back to the girl again.

"Crucio!"

Hermione tensed again as the curse returned to her punished body.

"Stop! Stop, please!" Ron pleaded for her.

She stopped again, her eyes returning to his still flowing one and repeated.

"Potter."

"I-I don't know." he answered. He saw her turn around and raise her wand and reignite the curse and panickingly kept going. "I don't know! I swear it! We-We split in the forest. I swear I don't know where he is. I swear! Please, just leave her alone! Please!"

Bellatrix let it last a few moments longer before releasing her captive from the steady stream of pain.

"There, all better." she commented.

Ron's hands were fists, tight and pale with all the pressure they could form. He wanted to kill her; he'd never wanted to harm a person more. Especially when she down and spoke so condescendingly.

"And I think you've learned your lesson as well, mudblood." she stated as if speaking to a child who'd been punished for misbehaving. She put the flat of her boot on the girl's stomach. "When Mistress wants you to scream..." she pressed her weight down on her foot and the tender organs beneath it."..._you scream. _I'll be back with your present later, filth."

She turned to leave, swishing her wand over her head as she did so with a quick movement. Just like that the silence was gone. Ron's ears filled with her pained cries and whimpers as her voice was returned to her. His heart, what was left of it, shattered to dust. It was the most wrenching sound he'd ever heard.

The young wizard couldn't stand it. Any of it. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and kiss her head and promise to never let go again. He wanted to take all her pain for her, feel it so she wouldn't have to anymore.

But to his crushing disappointment, the division of the cell remained after the murderous witch left. He scrambled on his hands and knees until he was parallel to where she lay. Still on her back, he imagined it was indescribably painful to move, and letting out pitiful sounds of pain and helplessness.

"Hermione." Ron spoke to her, wanting to ease her in any way he could. Even if it was only to let her know he was there with her. "Hermione, look at me. It's alright. It's gonna be alright, she's gone."

He tried more desperately, unable to keep the water from dropping down his cheeks. He just wanted her to look at him.

"Hermione, please." he begged of her. "It's Ron. Just Ron."

He brokenly said her name several more times, his own voice turning into a whisper. It was all he could do not to start sobbing. As he took his heaving breaths, he saw her move. Just her head, just enough to look at him. The boy saw and almost fell apart with relief that she'd at least done that.

"'Mione." he said her name softly, tears in his voice.

Her eyes, hollowed out with the ugliness, went to his and Ron winced when he saw no sign of recognition in them. He thought of Neville's parents; how Bellatrix and the cruciatis had changed them. It terrified Ron to think of the possibility of Hermione facing the same fate. Of her treasured beautiful mind being cracked into irreparable fragments.

"'Mione, do you recognize me?" he asked fearfully.

When she made no answer either way, just that same empty eyes contact. He asked another.

"Do you...Can you understand me?"

She said nothing, but bit her lip and stared with wet eyes.

"Hermione, I-"

That's when the door opened again and Ron heard her whimper, painfully moving to pull herself to the farthest corner as quickly as she could manage. Sliding along the floor, Ron recognized the now familiar sound of the movement and felt sick again but chose to focus instead on what was going on; what would happen next.

Lestrange entered with the same air as a girl in a pet store. She went straight to the far corner the girl had retreated to. As she got closer, Hermione's bare feet slid on the surface of the stone as she tried to press herself farther into the corner as if the wall at her back would open up and give her sanctuary.

"Hey!" Ron shouted. "H-Hey, you just, you stay away from her! Leave her alone. Take me instead. Take me. Do it to me, whatever it is."

Bellatrix turned to him and told him through the force that was meant to protect, not trap. She made a _tsk_ sound.

"You've had your present." she said darkly. "It's her turn."

She went back to Hermione and spoke in a sickly sweet voice.

"D'you know what today is?" she asked and squatted down to face her. "It's Tuesday."

She paused and Hermione gave no new reaction to the witch's words but to keep her head turned away. Ron wondered what the significance of the day was.

"Do you know what it means, muddy?" she asked, knowing the words were wasted on the filthy ears that didn't understand them anyway. But she just loved playing the game. As expected, the disgusting girl gave no hint of any understanding.

Bellatrix reached in her robes and pulled her hand out, showing the girl what she held. Hermione's eyes fell on it and right away reacted. Shaking her head quickly back and forth and shrinking against the wall but having nowhere to go.

Ron moved on his side of the room until he could see and voiced angrily.

"That's her wand." he declared. How dare the evil witch touch Hermione's wand. "Give it to her!"

"Gladly."

Bellatrix smirked and Ron was more confused than ever when she had to force it into the unaccepting hands.

"Nnn." she sounded, shaking her head with terrified panic. "Nnn...Nnn."

Ron realized she meant to say 'no'. The failed attempt at speaking only proved more evidence of her long subjected traumas. He couldn't figure out why she wouldn't want her wand though.

Bellatrix only laughed and nodded her head, mocking her with demented pleasure.

"Y-Y-Yes!" she laughed again at her taunting. "Yes, you know what today is now, don't you?"

Hermione continued to shake her head furiously, her mess of a mess of hair swinging when she did. The Death Eater grabbed a fistful on the top of her head and stood, pulling Hermione up with her. Her prisoner stumbled on weak legs as she was forced to follow her out.

The whole time Ron shouted her name, desperate for her to be left alone. She continued making her sounds of protest and he knew whatever Tuesday meant, whatever her wand meant, it was something that terrified her completely.

"Hermione!" he repeated her name in another shout as they passed through the entrance.

As soon as the door slammed shut, the shield was gone. Ron instantly moved to the other side where she'd been, he spun around once in a circle, as if looking for something that might help.

Then he went to the door and began making all sorts of racket. Screaming her name, banging on the surface.

The lights went out and he was left screaming in the dark.

X

X

* * *

X

X


	7. Echo

**A/N: Fun fact, I was slightly uncertain about the kind of responses I'd get from the last chapter as my pre-reader smounged89 didn't react too friendly to it. He said meanie mean things to me about doing that to them, but in the end, it just meant he was passionately hooked and he is still a faithful supporter. And, happily, I got no death threats in your reviews either, so it looks like I'll be ok…so far anyway. In this chap introducing some new povs, most dominantly a couple flashes and pieces of Hermione's time before our favorite gingery hero came along. Hope you likes….**

X

* * *

_"I think about your face, and how I fall into your eyes." – Echo by Trapt_

* * *

_X_

_-Godric's Hollow _

_Four Months, One Week and Two Days Ago-_

_She felt suddenly drained, her feet unsteady in the snow beneath her. Hermione pressed a hand to her forehead to combat the distracting dizziness and focus on trying to get out alive. Even as her brain ran a million miles a minute with spells and thoughts of what may be their best move for it, the terrible spin made it impossible to hold on to one. She opened her eyes in time to see the dark color of Ron's jacket obscure her view._

_She tried to step aside to see what was happening; to continue to fight, but had moved maybe an inch before Ron grunted and his body collided with hers, knocking the breath from her lungs. The world spun again and there was a loud noise. Then she was lying in the snow, the cold wetness of it soaking through the back of her jeans and sweater._

_Dazed by the slew of events, she registered the gray of the winter sky above and the sounds around her. The noise, her brain reminded her; a crash. There had been a crash before the snow._

_"Ron." she tried to call, her body still hadn't caught its breath back, making the word barely audible._

_Then the view of the sky was disrupted, Bellatrix Lestrange towering over her, glaring with a heated mix of disgust and furious anger. The witch grabbed her around the throat with her long nailed hand and lifted her, what seemed too easily, from the ground where she'd landed. Squeezing her windpipe, she pushed the teenager back into the wall of a house; fire and hatred in her eyes while the girl tried to pry the hand from her neck._

_Hermione's oxygen quickly depleted circulation to her brain and she tried to remember what she'd done to anger the dark witch so. Other than be a muggleborn, of course._

_"Bella." a voice hissed nearby that sent shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature._

_"My Lord." the husky voice replied and Hermione felt the hand tighten on her throat as it did._

_On the edge of consciousness, she couldn't focus enough to decipher what words passed next, though she could tell they were said with an urgency that spoke of animosity. Suddenly, just as her own arms were going limp at her sides, she was dropped. Hitting the snow without grace, she instantly began coughing on air as it returned to her deprived lungs. _

_Facing down, hoping her hands weren't being watched, she took her beaded bag that held all their essentials and shoved it in the snow beneath her. Her rationalizing mind explaining she wasn't dead because they chose it not be so. She was wanted alive, at least for the moment. They were most likely going to take her. She couldn't have that on her when they did. Harry and Ron couldn't carry on without it._

_Her lungs finally beginning to calm down, her brown eyes fell on something sticking up in the white powder. Her wand._

_Before she could try to reach it; even try to think of way to get it without being noticed, Bellatrix picked it up and tucked it away, making sure to meet the young witch's eyes with a smirk as she did so. Hanging her head a moment, she told herself she wouldn't cry, it would be ok. Somehow, she didn't know how yet, it would be ok. Then the claps began around her and she knew it was happening._

_She found herself wishing she hadn't been so short with Ron upon his return. She may never see him again and he'd never know how she truly felt. Bellatrix and those same sharp nails grabbed the front of her sweater and once again forced her to her feet with a rough force. Hermione's mind brought forth the memory of Mrs. Weasley giving it to her last Christmas._

_As she felt the disapparating, she thought only of the red head she feared she'd never see again._

X

* * *

X

Ron paced and waited, his mind running rampant with everything that had happened; all he'd learned. She was alive.

Hermione.

His Hermione, though she'd never been his; not really.

All this time. All the months and weeks and days...minutes and moments and breaths spent mourning her. Swearing revenge of the darkest measure he could come up with, promising to find her body and give her the respect she deserved. He'd even made the decision to look into memory reversal. To find her parents when it was all over and give them back the knowledge of their true lives and their daughter.

Even though he knew she'd done that so they wouldn't have to go through the pain of grieving her should the worst happen. He hadn't care, she deserved to be missed.

But it didn't matter anymore. Because she was alive. Why didn't he try harder to convince Harry it was a lie? How could he have accepted it without proof? Real physical proof.

He should have stayed with his first instinct. Instead, he abandoned her to a fate worse than the fake death Harry had been showed. Months in hell with Bellatrix Lestrange and her games.

What was the purpose of the lie? Surely Harry was more distracted when he knew she was alive in their hands than when he thought she was gone. So, why?

Merlin, the things they must've done to her to get her like she now was. A long time passed since she'd been taken from the cell. He didn't know how much exactly, but he'd paced the length and walked the area of the cell dozens of times. He sat down in the corner she'd been in. How many times over the months did she try finding safety in that spot?

He closed his eyes and could almost feel the terror that had been felt in that very space.

X

* * *

X

_She shivered uncontrollably; she didn't know whether from the temperature or the icy grip of terror that solidified the blood in her veins, possibly even a lasting effect from the torturous curse._

_She kept herself in the corner, the only semblance of security Hermione could convince herself she had in the swallowing shadows. Her quivering arms wrapped around her knees, she tried to, once again, comfort herself in her mind. _

_Her lips moved quietly in the dark, words slipping out in whispers, swirling in the shadow around her. She didn't know how long ago it was that she'd been taken from her friends. The hours were blurred between time spent in absolute pain and isolation. When the silence began screaming at her, dancing on the edge her sanity threatening to attack it, she began talking to keep it at bay._

_First talking to herself to cement she stay strong. She told herself that it would be ok. That everything would be alright. Just stay alive and don't tell them anything. Just hold on a little bit longer._

_Then it became reciting text from books she'd committed to memory. But soon she committed, instead, to saying things that she _needed_ to remember. If she was there too long, if the shadows slid inside her and begun to take her away piece by piece, there were things she needed to hold on to. _

_She said names to herself._

_Mum. Dad. Harry. Ginny. Arthur. Molly. Fred. George. Dumbledore…_

_Ron. _

_His name. She had to keep his name, his face, his crooked smile…his voice._

_She laid her forehead down on her bent knees, still muttering his name as she felt consciousness slipping away from her yet again. Her eyes slid closed as she spoke a broken whisper. _

"_Please, find me."_

X

* * *

X

Ron jerked awake, not knowing he'd fallen asleep until the all-too-familiar sound of the door pulled him from it.

"Hermione?" he asked, hopeful that whatever she was enduring was over.

But it wasn't. It was Draco bringing food again. He wondered why they always sent him with the one meal they got a day. That certainly seemed like something that was beneath the great pureblood. This time when he saw him, Ron stood and went over, thankful to still be rid of his restraining cuff.

"Malfoy, where's Hermione?" he asked desperately. The boy didn't answer and Ron grabbed his shoulders. "What's happening to her? Draco..."

It was strange calling him by his first name, but he needed answers. Draco couldn't shake the urge to give him those answers. To give his old school mate and target of much of his nastiness, something.

"She won't be back tonight." he said solemnly; showing Ron he'd only brought one tray with him today.

"Won't be..." his voice trailed off in repeating what he'd been told. He gripped Malfoy's shirt tightly, making him drop the food. His voice sharp with rage and edged with fear. "What's that mean? What they doin' to her?"

"Look..."he began to answer, shaking his platinum head. "Granger really mucked things up for herself, alright. That stunt in Godric's Hollow, everyone came back talking about it. The muggleborn getting one up on the Dark Lord. People asking how he'd far next to Potter if a mud-"

He halted his words and changed his words.

"...a muggleborn can best him. He was furious. Demanding to know how she'd done it, where it came from, whose magic she'd stolen."

"What? That's ridiculous." Ron stated spitefully; offended by the accusation. "She hasn't stolen any magic."

"That's what she told them." Malfoy explained. "But to fix his...pride and make sure everyone knows he's more powerful than anyone, that what happened was a fluke, once a week she's cleaned up, marched out, given her wand and... He comes."

X

* * *

X

_Hermione stood behind Bellatrix, hands bound with a rough rope wrapped tightly around her delicate wrists, the end of which in the Death Eater's hand. Magical bindings too good to waste on a 'muddy dog' as she'd been told before Bellatrix began moving, pulling the young girl forward as a dog on a leash._

_Hermione was terrified but confused at the same time. All she knew of what was going on was that it was Tuesday according to her captor's declaration and this, whatever was happening, was something not yet experienced in her time there. With a swipe of her wand, the dark witch erased all traces of dirt or blood and Hermione found herself in a fresh robe rather than the tattered jeans and sweater she'd been wearing since they'd taken her._

_She could feel herself quivering as she looked around the room she was brought to. People in hoods and masks all around; their dark presence lined all the walls of the large room. _

_The door opened and all around they lowered in a bow, including Bellatrix who jerked the rope forcing her to do the same._

_"Where is it?" the cold words slithered through the air._

_"Here, my lord." the dark witch spoke up, stepping forward and pulling Hermione with her._

_He came closer as they now stood in the center of the room. His movements fluid as though he was barely touching the ground at all._

_Then he was in her face, so close she could feel the chill coming off his white gleaming skin. His red eyes focusing on her. Blood red and no trace of anything human in them. His face a breath from hers and she was shaking with terror. She'd seen him before. In the Hollow and he'd been an ever present figure during her 'interrogations.' Often he'd ask the question in a calm cold voice and his favored minion would carry out the act of inflicting pain._

_But he'd never been so close. She'd never had his breath in her nostrils. Using every ounce of braver she could muster, she managed not to cringe away._

"_The mudblood friend of Harry Potter...I've seen you scream." he told her, having been present when she'd experienced the Cruciatis for the first time. "Potter's seen it too. I gave it to him as a gift."_

_Harry. Voldemort opened the link on purpose to send her friend's visions of her torture. She couldn't imagine how they'd reacted. Harry probably blamed himself and Ron..._

_Ron._

_She hoped Harry hadn't told Ron about it. She didn't want him to worry about her. She didn't want him hurting for her. They had to keep going; they had to finish what they started and end it all. _

_Voldemort stared into her with those deathly red eyes, eyes that knew only evil. As much as she wished to appear strong and defiant, she had to look away; look down. He sneered at the submissive act and rose to his full height. The snake-like man turned from her and held out his long hand to accept the object from a follower whose face was hidden behind a mask._

_Hermione recognized her wand in the pale dead hands. He held it up, blood red eyes looking it over._

_"Whose is this?" he asked the wand but directed the question to the girl._

_Her own eyes looked around, uncertain. He knew who. He was there when his favorite Death Eater took it into her possession. _

_"Mine." she squeaked out, and then tried to sound stronger. "It's mine."_

_"Who did you take it from?" he asked returning his gaze to her. "Whose magic have you taken as your own?"_

_That question again. She'd been asked in his presence several forms of that same question. Each time she'd answered it, and honestly, pain was inflicted on her. So much pain. Was this a show to intimidate her to change her answer?_

_"Well?" he asked in a voice, dripping with power despite its calm tone._

_Desperately trying to keep her voice from quivering, she answered._

_"It's mine." she answered. As completely terrified as she was, she couldn't and wouldn't lie about her magic. It was no one's but hers._

_She looked down, hiding from those awful eyes again and forcing out the words._

_"The wand," her lips quivered. "chooses the wizard."_

_"Ah, but you're no wizard, are you?" he told her. "No witch. Just a mudblood."_

_"No." she surprised herself by shaking her head. "I'm a witch. I have magic. I know- I know spells. I do spells. It chose me."_

_Then in a swift motion, almost as if he'd flown, he was in her face again._

_"You think you're powerful, Mudblood?" he asked angrily. "More powerful than I?"_

_Hermione's mouth went dry with fear. His icy hand grabbed hers and forced it closed around her wand._

_"Cut it free." he demanded._

_Bellatrix sliced her bindings with the same knife she trailed along Hermione's skin as a threat._

_"Let's test the magic of a mudblood against a true wizard." he stated, and then in a booming voice he addressed the room as he walked in a straight line away from her. "You'll all witness proof that this...thing," he pointed at her. "has no true power against your lord. That it was pure accident that even a spark from that wand touched me."_

_Her hand white as it clenched the stick tightly; Hermione felt her shaking body back away as he spoke. But only got a step back before she felt the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange shove her forward with violent force that made her stumble._

_A duel? Duel Voldemort? Hermione looked around, horror in her eyes and no friendly face anywhere to be seen._

_She heard him start to count._

_"One..." she was shaking horribly._

_So frightened, she could barely breathe. The air was something solid that wouldn't go to her lungs._

_"Two..."_

_She tried to remember the spells she knew. Any of them. She memorized and perfected hundreds, but in the moment, not a single one came to her. The tears slipped down her face and she whispered the only word that came to her, in a voice that was only for her ears._

_Ron._

_"Three!"_

X

* * *

X

Ron looked at Draco with wide eyes.

"He..._He_ comes?" he asked. "But she-she can't. After everything..."

Ron's thoughts falling out with no structure, he tried to get a grip on what he'd learned. Of course now it made sense the way she'd reacted to her own wand. She knew the association being given her wand meant.

"Wh-Why doesn't she come back after?" he asked, fearful of the answer.

Draco looked down and tried to answer him with a dismissive.

"You don't want to know." Ron shoved him back against the stone.

"Yes I bloody want to know. I asked didn't I?"

Draco shoved his hands off of him.

"He gives her away, alright?" he spat. "For the night, whoever it is, can do whatever they like as long as they don't kill her."

Ron shook his head and backed away from him, a million scenarios tearing his mind apart. Possibilities of what the monsters did when they were given free reign.

"You." Ron pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You've just been watching it happen. You're as sick as any of them!"

"You don't know what you're talking about." he shook his head and confessed, blowing out a breath. "I tried to help alright? At first I would...slip potions and draughts in the food. But father noticed them missing without explanation. He put wards on his supply. He's never said anything but I think he knows it was me."

"So that's it then, is it?" He asked. "You just look away now. Bring rubbish on a plate and pretend you've done all you can do."

"You don't get it!" Draco argued without raising his voice. "Why do you think I'm the one who brings you this filth every day when we've got house elves that could do it?"

"Search me."

"It's a punishment." he told him. "I was tasked by the Dark Lord with a mission and I didn't do it."

Ron didn't want to hear his stories or excuses. He didn't care about it.

"It's better for you if you just accept the fact that I have." Draco stated. "You can't worry about someone else; you've got to worry about how you're going to survive. Besides, she's not Granger anymore."

Ron would hear it. He refused to accept that Hermione was too far gone for him to find; for him to care. The boy set in his mind that this place would not break him. He'd survive and he would get through enough to help her as well. But first he asked a question he feared.

"Malfoy, do you know who's with her tonight?"

X

* * *

X

The great room of the manor had emptied now that the spectacle had ended. All gone save for him, the prisoner and her keeper.

Bellatrix was loathed to spend any time with him, let alone let him play with her things. But as the Dark lord wished, she fulfilled.

"You know the rules." she told him. "Don't kill it; give it back in the morning. It's mine."

"Of course, I'm well aware of the stipulations." he commented dryly.

She glared at him as if wishing to say more or perhaps expecting something else from him. But instead went to where the wand lay on the floor and picked it up. The witch tucked it away and stated with a wink.

"Better luck next time, eh?"

Then she left through the large doors, leaving only him and the girl. He looked around the grand emptied room and slowly approached the spot on the floor where she lay. On her side facing away from him, the robes a pool around her thin frame. Her hair stuck on her face, caught in beads of sweat that coated her skin.

Lowering to his knees beside her, he could hear the irregularity in the breaths that came and went from her body. He shook his head at the images of the day. The girl being forced out, yet again, for the unfair match up. The most powerful dark wizard of all time against the child who'd not even stood up straight until physically made to do so. Her attempts, learned and by now instinctual, to remain crouched down were horribly difficult to observe.

Especially knowing who she was...rather, who she'd been.

The once brilliant mind was farther in the past as each day carried on; its owner becoming more and more animalistic.

The display put on by the leader of the dark side was more than disgusting. He shut his eyes as it replayed in his head. Holding a wand she didn't want, didn't remember how to use, the nasty jet hitting her in the chest with such force it spun its target in the air. The sound of her body hitting the ground feet from where she'd been standing rang in his ears.

Carefully, he moved to roll her off her side and onto her back where he could better assess the damage before taking her from the room they were still in. Despite being barely conscious, if at all, the moment his hand touched her there was a reflexive flinch and whimper. Having no recent memory of contact that didn't mean pain, he couldn't really blame the child for her automated response. But he continued as gently as he could to move her.

Once on her back, he better took in her injuries. What required immediate attention, he decided, was the sporadic movements of her chest; the lungs beneath struggling for air. He lightly laid his palm on her right side just under the breast while moving his wand over the area and quietly saying the required words. His soft voice reciting that which he'd often used on himself many times throughout the course of his life, he felt the shifting beneath his hand as the bones moved under her skin to their rightful places to mend back together. He felt her tense and moan as he induced the painful procedure without any sort of pain relieving potion to give her. He couldn't risk being found bringing it along with him.

He mentally apologized for causing her even an ounce more pain, but his guilt for it subsided when it was finished and her breathing returned to a healthier rhythm. Though he wouldn't call her healthy by any stretch. He repeated the actions on her misshapen wrist. Again feeling remorseful until the outcome was visible. Lastly, was the open wound that bled life down the left side of her head and face. When finished, he leaned back on his ankles and blew out a quiet breath.

He was truly sorry for the unfortunate card she'd been dealt. He knew, the moment he'd heard of what happened during the attack on Potter that winter's day that there would be a terrible price to pay. For committing the cardinal sin of wounding the Dark Lord's pride, the price would have to be paid in blood. The man sincerely wished he could do more for his former pupil, but his hands were tied.

Snape was often in view of too many still suspicious eyes and Potter still on his journey to end the dark wizard's reign...for him to expose himself and his true loyalties now would put too much at risk. Dumbledore's repetitive use of the phrase 'the greater good' stuck in his head like a long spoken prayer. The bigger picture had to matter more than the fate of a single individual.

All he found even the slightest organism of good news at the moment was that Greyback had yet to have his wish granted of having the night after one of the disgusting excuses for duels. It was only because he would in all likelihood be unable to keep from killing the girl and that wasn't what Voldemort wanted just yet.

No. The man wished for her to be alive when he met with Potter for the final time. He meant to throw his world off its axis with the revelation that his close thought-to-be-dead friend, alive and tortured into madness.

A sudden memory presented itself. Their third year, when he'd found them at the Shrieking Shack because the three little meddlers just couldn't help themselves from poking around. He recalled being under the moon and shielding them from their werewolf professor that night. It was a move he'd done on instinct. Because they were just children and he was their teacher. He sighed and said phrase that levitated her frail body and began leading the both of them towards the connected room. He looked her over as he did so.

She was still a child. They all were just children. Children caught in a war and forced to grow up in the worst ways.

The greater good.

X

X

* * *

X

X


	8. Playing With Fire

**A/N: Alrighty…so a month or so later of silence and I come back with a vengeance! Apologies all around between yet another grand computer disruption, finals, holiday hours and family I've been occupado for quite some time. But no worries for it's all over now as I greet you from my awesome new lappity toppity. I think I may name him dennis. Here we go! I Hope you Enjoy…**

* * *

"_Ten thousand demons hammer down with every footstep. Ten thousand angels rush the wind against my back." _

– _Playing With Fire _by Brandon Flowers

* * *

Snape left the manor, all his instincts cursing him for leaving alone without his former students; the over eager overachiever and her dullard accomplice. However, what the Weasley boy lacked in academic intellect, Snape knew he made up for a hundred times over in loyalty and courage.

It was a secret of the potion master's that he felt the wizarding world had never given deserved recognition to either of the two. The spotlight always on Potter.

Not that it wasn't with reason. The boy was dealt a terrible fate in this world and he stepped up to claim and face it. But the fact remained that the life chose him. It would always follow whether or not he accepted or embraced it. Whereas his so-called sidekicks had had a choice. A choice to turn away; to live life with a certain degree of normalcy. But they chose sacrifice, chose struggles and danger to stand beside their friend and fight for the betterment of everyone. In an aspect, they were far greater heroes in his account; though none of these thoughts he would ever verbalize.

He loathed returning the girl to her tormentors even after he had done, or so he tried to tell himself, all he could safely do for her. Treated injuries, provided a decent meal, and most importantly gave an uneventful evening away from the constant living nightmare of her stay at the Malfoy estate.

He once again sent a string of mental curses against himself as he appeared just outside the perimeter of the school. As he walked the grounds, he recalled the previous night in which she'd been "his" to do what he pleased. The specific room of the manor with wards to keep prying ears and eyes from invading the actions of within, he'd changed right away once inside. Cleaning the despicable room with a wave of his wand and changed the decor and arrangement in hopes that waking there would automatically associate with the hideous memories it no doubt held.

The dark haired man wasn't sure he'd ever forget the way she'd regarded him with such fear and suspicion. He tried to assuage it as best he could. Throughout the night he'd made sure to keep his distance while keeping himself in sight to show that he was no threat to her safety. Though each time he'd brandished his wand she noticeable reacted, afraid and bracing for it to be turned on her.

For the meal he'd chosen something that would fill without being too much work for her depleted body to be reintroduced to just yet; calling upon the elves of the house that were to cater to any with the dark mark while they were in the manor for a simple pasta dish. She'd carefully crept close to the hot food provided after he set it on the mattress and stepped back. Snape had to keep from wincing when she ate, taking the contents with a shaking hand and splotching the sauce on her skin and the sheets. Simple social propriety such as eating etiquette easily forgotten when living and being treated like an animal.

The girl didn't speak a word the entire time. But when she'd eater her fill, Snape saw something akin to gratitude in her eyes as she backed away keeping her gaze on his black orbs.

But that was surely gone now. She wasn't grateful to him anymore. He'd handed her back over to the demons that changed her so while he now sat in his office at Hogwarts waiting with a sigh for the man in the painting to tell him something new on Potter's whereabouts and progress on ending this.

* * *

There was light now.

Dim, but ever-present in the cell. He supposed it was another tactic of breaking him; making it possible for him to see what had become of the girl he so revered. Watch her wild eyes see him with no recognition; looking upon him with distrust as if he were just another who meant to hurt her.

But it didn't work. At least not completely.

When Ron came around some undetermined time after Malfoy finished with him yet again and saw her hew as equal parts heartbreak and joy. It hurt more than he could describe to see her condition a scarce shadow of who she'd been, but at the same time simply seeing her made him want to burst with emotion. His eyes opened and he saw the world on its side as he felt the floor pressing into his cheek.

He saw her then, against the far wall, knees drawn up to her chest, looking at him through the hair that fell in her face. It was the first he'd seen of her since she'd been taken away in front of him with those awful intentions the youngest Malfoy had informed him of. He quickly pushed himself up and moved towards her.

"Hermione!" he said relieved.

But his word and movements made her jump and put her hands protectively before her face. Exactly as she'd done when any other threat was present. Though it was incredibly difficult not to run over and wrap his arms around her with crushing force, Ron found the strength to stop. He stood near the center of the room, the adrenaline masking every searing pain coursing in his body.

"I'm not gonna hurt you 'Mione." he informed her carefully, holding his hands up a moment. He looked down on the floor and then gingerly lowered himself to sit on it. "I'm, uh, I'm just gonna sit right here, yeah? On my side, alright?"

He crossed his legs and draped his arms over his knees. She remained as she was until he was settled and then, perhaps because of curiosity, she cautiously uncovered her face. Her hands resting then on top of her knees and she peered over them at him. He said nothing at first, simply watched her watch him.

So many things he wanted to say ran through his mind. So many things he'd wanted to say for so long; things he should have said when the chance was there.

"Are you alright? You hurt?" he asked. "Malfoy, he told me what was happening. What they do."

She looked at him still, shifting her weight a bit where she sat but other than that gave no indication of being present as anything other than an unanimated fixture in the room.

"But you look like you held up alright." he stated, and then swallowed roughly in his dry throat. She didn't appear to have just dueled the darkest wizard in the history of magic and then...the rest that could've have, probably did happen, after that. Maybe that was part of it though.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." he shook his head. "I'm sorry I left how I did. That I couldn't...I couldn't protect you better. For not finding you, saving you."

He felt tears burn in his eyes. There was so much he wanted to apologize for. Every rude remark, every moment he bit his tongue instead of complimenting her when she deserved it. The water began to slip from his eyes and he swiped at them with a dirty palm. He didn't want to cry, he wanted to help her. This wasn't about him. When he felt they stopped, that no more would be coming, he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Do you remember me?" he asked. "Or Harry?"

She gave no indication that the name meant anything to her.

"It's ok." he told her, attempting to make himself more comfortable. "S'Alright. I'll remember for both of us until you do."

He was sure that it was hours that passed while all that sounded in the slightly lit room was his own voice spouting various random memories as detailed as he could recall. Ron's eyes would continuously go to hers; looking for signs that she was listening or understood or remembered. So far he saw none. She only stared in his direction, though he would occasionally wonder whether or not she actually paid attention to his words. Perhaps she stared at him only because he was there.

"You know," he continued with his current memory. "I meant to ask you to go with me. I mean, really ask, the right way. I was scared though, didn't you'd ever go for it. When I saw you there with Krum, you were having so much fun. I was jealous."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the hard wall behind him, having slid back over to the wall after his first few stories. The aches and stiffness were returning.

"So I said stupid, hurtful things when all I really wanted to say was how amazing you looked." he opened his eyes. "I mean, I always thought, always think you look nice. Better than nice. But that night you were especially...beautiful."

He could feel himself blushing slightly, never saying it out loud before. If only the setting were different. If only he'd said it when she was standing in front of him that night.

It was a short time later that Ron noticed she'd fallen asleep. So he blew out a breath and decided to follow suit.

He lost himself in dreams; in a world where Ron Weasley was courageous enough to really ask Hermione Granger to the Yule Ball. It was while he was in that world that his body stirred but he forced it to ignore its natural instincts and stay asleep. Not quite ready to leave that warm life just for a ghost of a noise he thought he'd heard. But then he felt something, something moved his hair with the feather-light touch of an early autumn breeze.

This brought his eyes away from dreams and into reality. He woke and pressed his palm on the cold floor to push himself up a bit. Halfway between laying and sitting, he kept still, gazing in surprise.

She was in front of him, sitting back on her ankles, one hand on the floor, and the other hovered in the air midway between them. He fought his impulses, forcing himself to remain carefully quiet and still despite the thundering excitement in his chest. There was an uncertainty in her, like she wondered if she'd made a mistake. He said nothing and held her eyes with his own, trying to somehow convey that it was alright.

After a few frozen moments, Ron took her lack of retreat as a positive sign and made slow the moves to sit himself up. He maneuvered himself onto his knees an sat, his position mirroring hers though he still remained a good head taller than she.

Directly before her, Ron took another risk.

"Hermione?" he said her name, soft and hopeful.

She furrowed her brow the way he'd seen her do many times when perplexed. Then her hand moved. He held his breath as it came closer and slowly, cautiously closer. Hesitating a moment before it again was touching his hair, grown out and a mess. He let out the breath in his chest, it shook with emotion as he felt her touch. Then, with her hand buried in his hair, she looked at it, than in his eyes and in a rough barely audible voice; a single word struggled passed her lips.

"Y-You."

X

X

X

X

X


	9. Ache For You

**A/N: Feeling like a broken record, but I'm gonna say it again. Lovin the love and thanks for all of it guys! Classes are work, work is the suck, but at least I got awesome friends and fun hobbies to help me along the way! **

* * *

"_There's no rhyme and there's no reason. You're the secret in the back of my skull." – _

_'Ache For You' _by Ben Lee

* * *

Ron felt a huge smile take over his face; larger and truer than any he'd had in a very long time. He let out a half-laugh and spoke to her.

"Me." he answered with excitement.

The hand hidden in his hair slowly moved from it. Her cool fingertips brushed the skin of his forehead, trailing down until they reached his eyebrow and gently ran along the soft line of orange. He closed his eyes and took in the overwhelming sensation of her touch in a deep breath. When he opened them again, she was slightly closer, maybe only an inch or two, but closer. He was suddenly afraid to breathe, afraid to break the moment and discover he was still asleep and it was all just another dream.

She raised her second hand, both of them hesitantly in front of her. Quivering fingers began tracing the features of his face and he was more than fine letting them; something tugging in his chest when she got to his lips. Her eyes followed her fingers as if she were studying him; learning with every inch of skin they touched. She stopped and looked back at his eyes, her fingers still on the border of his jaw.

"It's me." he told her in a soft, near-whisper as he held her eyes with his own. Then, even quieter, he repeated. "It's me."

He wanted her to speak again. To prove that he hadn't imagined that part. He needed to hear her, even if it was in that gritty rough version of her voice that he hadn't expected.

"Remember?" he asked the same question he'd repeatedly asked her. "You know me. Do you remember?"

She looked at him with that same perplexed look and he saw her mouth make a tight line as if she were concentrating on a particularly difficult task. Her dark eyes searched him, sweeping in jet like motion over his face. Her mouth parted, trying to give birth to sound, but closed again quickly. She put her hand back in his hair, this time making an indecipherable sound before a true structured word came.

"This." the one word sounded forced and she inhaled deeply through her nostrils after saying it.

Ron then determined that the task he'd called difficult was the simplicity of finding and forming words. Not talking, really talking for so long; not using her voice for anything other than screams and cries had worn her voice to something hard and hardly recognizable as hers. The several, prolonged tortures cracking into her mind and stealing away pieces of it as a thief in the night.

"This?" he asked, confused a moment and looking to her, hoping there'd be something more. Hermione's eyes caught his, then went up to where her hand was once again hidden beneath his locks and he connected what she meant to tell him. "My hair."

He laughed again. Twice in one day, what a world he was in now.

"You remember my hair."

The signature trait of all Weasley's; the bright orange of their hair no matter age or gender. She had it in her mind. It was familiar to her in some way. He smiled again at her; it wasn't much but it was a start. More than that, more than anything, it was evidence that despite what Draco tried to tell him, Hermione Granger was still within reach.

He was so happy for the miniscule step that seemed like a leap. Forgetting himself, he reached for her. Just to feel her, too, under his own fingers. He couldn't even say what he would have done; cup her cheek perhaps. But it didn't matter. The instant his hand moved towards her with the speed it had, she flinched and hitched her breath pulling her own hand back away from him. His heart sank from the spot it had risen to.

"No." he told her. "No, I'm not gonna hurt you."

He tried to tell her, wondering how well she comprehended what she heard from his mouth. Words obviously not easy as they'd naturally been for her months ago. She pulled her body back, preparing to retreat it seemed. Ron shook his head and tried to figure out how he could tell her. Out of panicking habit, he ran his hand through his hair. The small action brought her attention back to his hair and he saw her looking at it once again. Something he might call longing in her eyes as she did so.

He thought for a minute that maybe he understood what was happening. His hair, perhaps only it's color even, she remembered. However vague it was, it was something she knew; something that meant something other than pain and humiliation. It was a glimmer of another time, another life; she couldn't quite get her hold on. Hermione, no doubt, wanted to indulge in that feeling or connection it offered. But she was still skittish and on-guard for her own sake. He hoped desperately to find a way to form a trust in her; to ensure her that he never in his life would intend to cause her any harm.

When the door sounded, it shattered the bubble that had somehow created itself in the horrid reality. She snapped her head and scrambled away, back to her corner. Ron took notice of the way she moved about, like a caged abused animal. He braced himself to fight as much as he could, refusing to let Bellatrix crush the progress with her twisted perception of fun.

But it wasn't either of their tormentors, it was food. But it wasn't Draco.

Ron took her in. He'd seen her before but not often. Pale and refined by propriety and the aristocratic air that surrounded her, Narcissa Malfoy was indeed a beauty. Her pale blue gown complimented her fair skin as she stood in the entryway. He wondered why it was her there. Why she'd come down to their level. He could hear the smallest clinks of the dishes as if they were being held by unsteady hands.

"Hello." she spoke into the room, the slightest tremor in her uncertain voice.

The woman took a step inside and looked between the two of them. From Ron looking at her with curiosity to Hermione hiding in the sanctuary of the farthest wall.

"I'm afraid Draco's taken ill." she informed them for some reason. It was clear she wasn't familiar or comfortable with interacting with the prisoners of her household; freely offering information to them. "I've brought your meals for you."

When she'd discovered her son bedridden with the bug, she'd offered to do the small chore for him. He had refused, telling her not to go down to the dungeons and have an elf do it. Yet she couldn't agree, especially when she'd seen the offerings and portions the elf intended to bestow. Narcissa knew nothing of what happened in the deepest level of their home and she preferred it that way. If she knew details, such as being deprived of food, her heart would bleed sympathies until it she did something to help. So she nervously took it upon herself.

Unsure about how to deliver it to them, whereas Draco would put it down and slide it over without ever coming inside, his mother walked over to Ron and crouched in front of him to set it down before the boy. He immediately noticed the difference in quality. He'd dare say it was a true meal, steaming and fresh.

"Thank you." he offered surprised.

"You're welcome." she replied automatically, looking up at him for the first time and letting out a tiny gasp.

Ron noted he must've been a frightful sight for someone who wasn't prepared or used to seeing him. Bruised and cut and swollen here and there. Dirty and bloody and tired.

"Oh." she breathed, obviously effected by the evidence of wrong doings in front of her. "Did...Was this my husband?"

"Yeah." Ron answered, the fact obviously troubling her.

"Oh." she said again, disturbed; her wet eyes roaming his face. She was almost enough to make Ron wish he'd lied or not answered at all. "I had no idea he could ever ... I'm sorry."

The compassion and sympathy pouring from her surprised him. She was a Malfoy after all. He wondered for a moment if she were about to embrace him as one might a saddened child. She looked as though she might.

"It's not you who should apologize." he said half assuring, half bitter. "And it's not him you should worry about."

He saw his words didn't need further explanation. The almost royal woman looked over her shoulder. Narcissa then rose, taking with her the second portion of food. She approached the girl with sorrowful eyes. As she walked, her pale gown gliding with her steps, Hermione pressed her back against the wall again, but no safe haven revealed itself to swallow her in safety. Her wide frenzied eyes going from the coming woman to the room around, searching for escape. The Malfoy matriarch set herself in front of her just as she'd done Ron moments ago. Placing the food down and looking over the person before her.

"Oh my." she whispered near tears looking her over. Taking in the twisted tales she told without saying a word. "Oh you poor dear."

She reached a hand to her, maternal instinct screaming she gather the fragile girl up in her arms. Despite the intentions with which she moved, her gesture was not well received. Hermione reacting to this new woman as she did to all. With a fearful flinch and, already pressed as far into the wall as she could, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as panicked breaths picked up the pace in and out of her body; a few random sounds and whimpers coming out amid them.

She pulled back, wiping an escaped tear from her elegant cheek.

"My sister?" she asked over her shoulder, already knowing the answer.

Ron nodded though she didn't look at him. She seemed to hear his response regardless and shook her head.

"I'm so sorry." she again apologized for actions not her own. "Bella she...she isn't well. Hasn't been for some time. I'd hoped it would get better but I..."

She shook her head again and stood up quickly. Smoothing out her dress anxiously, she then wrung her hands together and spoke.

"They're both away for the evening. I don't expect them back before morning." she informed what she hoped would offer some peace while she searched for how she would digest and act upon these new horrific findings. "They won't be bothering you tonight."

"Where are they?" Ron asked curiously. If she was offering information like this, he'd try to make the best of it.

"I'm afraid I can't say." she apologized again.

She left them then, muttering something Ron couldn't quite hear and wringing her hands as she vanished behind the closing door. It came too late to Ron that he could have overpowered her, even in his condition. He could have taken the disturbed woman by surprise.

But what then?

He didn't have his wand. Didn't know the layout of the dungeons or house. Didn't know if Hermione would let him lead her out. He couldn't just fly without a target if he wanted to get both of them out of there alive. He needed a plan.

Perhaps play on her obvious sympathy for them and it more information about the house or what she knew about Voldemort's overall plan. He shook his head, she probably didn't know that. There was no way. Voldemort was smart. No doubt he'd give out only the needed bullet points his soldiers needed to carry out, while keeping all the valuable things close to the vest. Ron would guess that if any of them had the slightest clue it would most likely be Bellatrix. As his most loyal and favorite player, she probably would know the most.

And she wasn't going to tell him anything.

Ron shook his head of the thoughts for a moment, his stomach roaring with intensity as the aroma of the meal assaulted his nostrils. He looked at his plate and could have danced. He saw meat. Saw potatoes and vegetables and fresh bread.

How long had it been since he'd eaten a real meal? The wedding he thought. With a smile, he looked up.

"Look at that, eh?" he spoke to her happily. "Almost like Mum made it for us."

The first bite felt like heaven as he savored the taste and temperature. He wanted to continue where he and Hermione had been before Mrs. Malfoy had appeared. But he figured if he was this hungry, she had to be painfully starving. He would rather let her enjoy this stroke of luck for a bit. Perhaps afterward with hot food in her stomach she'd be more receptive to him. Maybe even be able to pull up more memories. Maybe be comfortable enough that he could touch her. His hand ached to hold hers, to cup her cheek, to brush hair out of her face, to graze her skin in anyway.

But when he looked, she wasn't eating. She was staring at her untouched plate, but made no move for it. Her fingertip between her teeth as though nervously chewing on her nail. Only, he remembered with a shudder, he'd seen her bloodied hand that night in the light, there hadn't been any nails there. His mouth full, he gazed down at his own plate and wondered if he'd been too quick to receive it at face value.

True they may not want them dead, but not every poison or potion was fatal. Had this sort of trick already been played on her in the past? Was Narcissa Malfoy really just another weapon at the disposal of the Death Eaters? An actress?"

She'd have to be a great one. It all seemed genuine. The shock and distress.

No. He was certain it was real. Her intentions were true.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She looked up to him when he spoke, water in her eyes. Her uneasy hand removed from her mouth, touching her temple and she looked back to the food before her. When those pained browns returned once again to him, Ron could practically feel her attempts to convey a message to him. To answer him those words were not readily available. He tried to figure it out, to "hear" what she tried to tell him.

His blue eyes squinted as he thought he might have an idea. She wanted to eat but-

"You're scared." he finished aloud, his voice in the room drawing those eyes right back to him. "You think it's a trick. You've...You've been tricked before haven't you?"

He felt the now familiar rage burn in his veins. How he wished for a fair fight against any one of them. Though there was a special place on his hit list for a certain dark haired witch and her platinum partner in crime. But Ron fought to clear the anger from his voice to help her.

"Look," he suggested, taking a bite again and speaking with food in his mouth. "See? I'm alright. It's fine."

He waited, hoping he'd encouraged her to eat some. She needed it. Her frail form thinner than he'd ever seen her was a declaration that she couldn't afford to turn away food. There was such fragility all about her. But she didn't eat. Still afraid, still certain it was a cruel joke and she was the punch line.

Doing all he could think to do, Ron got up, taking his half eaten meal with him and sat himself on the same wall as she. Making sure to keep significant space between them though everything demanded otherwise. He tested the waters with this action, sharing the wall with her. She watched him with trepidation, her exhausted limbs bracing for an attack that wasn't coming.

"Eat." he told her, his voice a forced calm to hide the desperate plea. He gave another example, again taking a bit off his plate then nodding towards her plate.

She shook her head, matted, messy curls cutting through the air around her face. A small spark in Ron's heart flared at the small communication. But despite that, she needed to eat. He slid his body closer to her, repeated himself and seeing the familiar complexity in her features. That problem solving focus had him hoping it meant she would speak again.

Her dry lips tightened for several seconds and parted when again a single word came out.

"Bad." coming out riding a rush of breath, the voice sandpaper rough. Her eyes looked to his expectantly; waiting for him to understand.

"I don't think so." he told her, keeping his words as crisp as he could in hopes she'd grasp them. He still had no way at the moment to know how much of what he said registered and translated. "Here."

He slowly moved still closer, cautiously continuing even though he saw the tension in her. Making visible, deliberate movements, he got close enough his long arm could reach in front of her. He took a small piece from her tray to show her it wasn't just his food that was edible without consequence. He brought it to his mouth but was stopped by the light pressure; he knew she felt that co of her slender hand catching his and her breath hitching as she sounded.

"Nn."

It wasn't the force of her touch that stopped him. God knew it was nothing he couldn't have fought of easily if he tried. But it was her touch.

He looked at the wisps of fingers, the meager grip on his cool skin around his wrist. His heart sped as his mind slowed. Nothing else there except her hand holding him. Blue swirls like oceans moved to look at her. She'd come close. Right next to him, almost closer than she'd been earlier when feeling his face as a blind man learns to see with his fingers. There was something in her eyes.

Fear. But a new fear. She was afraid, but not for herself. She was afraid for him. But beyond the fear, there was something else; something he was almost afraid to try to label in case he was wrong.

She kept her darkly brown eyes locked on his and he remembered all the time he had spent wishing those eyes would look at him and show even a breath of the feelings he felt. That he would see in them a reflection of everything he tried to keep hidden from his own gaze for fear she wouldn't feel the same. He was always convinced that if they had for even a moment, a brand new clarity would settle upon the world. He could find the meaning of life dancing in their beautiful depths.

Then her eyes left his and traveled instead to where she touched him, looking at her fingers on his skin. She'd grown deathly pale living in shadows, her skin even lighter than his naturally fair tone.

She had to feel it, too.

Even if she didn't know him, didn't remember him beyond a gathering of orange hair, he knew she felt that connected moment. Felt it right along with him, like their hearts shared and identical beat.

Oh God, how he wished it were all some spell. And that this moment shared between them had been enough to shatter it; banishing everything to a distant memory.

"Bad." she said again, returning her orbs to his intensely.

Ron lowered his hand, dropping the bit of food back. She turned away then, no longer touching him. The moment over, but not disappearing completely. The air was different; she hugged her knees to her chest to stare ahead of her, but sent brief sideways glances towards him as he sat unmoving from how he'd been. After a moment or two, he nodded and pulled his own plate and what he hadn't eaten yet over from where he'd left it.

"Here." he said quietly and cleared his throat. "Have mine. It's not...bad."

He slid it toward her.

There was a stretch of decisive seconds where he thought she'd refuse his offer. But instead she put her fingers into it, taking a slight piece and carefully putting it in her mouth. He felt himself fighting a small smile when she did.

"Don't get used to it, you know." he teased as he hadn't done in months. "We get outta here, I'm not sharin', hear?"

xxx


	10. As You Sleep

A/N: Woot! I pretty much practically completely loved the reviews I got for the last chapter. There was something I was thinking I wanted to say to you guys in this note, but now that I'm on the spot I've forgotten….sigh….my bad. Oh well, maybe next time.

* * *

"_Don't forget I'll hold your head; watch the night sky fading red." –_'As You Sleep' by Something Corporate

* * *

x

The sun had risen several hours ago, and had set even more so, yet Narcissa Malfoy gave not a thought to sleeping. It wasn't unusual for her to be kept awake with worry whenever her husband was absent; off performing a duty for the Dark Lord, the details of which he never volunteered and she never sought. But on this night her mind was troubled differently.

In the lowest level of their house, the home in which they raised their son, such atrocities were taking place. True, she'd never been naive. She knew there were prisoners being held there; had been for some time. And she knew the living conditions weren't expected to be ideal or even vaguely comfortable. But she hadn't expected what she had found.

Seeing with her own eyes evidence of violent acts of her own husband and sister. She had known, everyone had, that Bellatrix was not well in the mind. Not since Azkaban. Even before her incarceration, she'd always had something sinister swimming within her black eyes. But Lucius? Her very own husband the man she had lain with every night for so many years. Loving to her at all times possible, so long as none of his 'associates' were around. Affection was not something to be displayed in the company of others.

And they weren't just prisoners. They were schoolmates of Draco's. Teenagers. Children. Upon which such despicable treatment had been showered just below where she now sat in the Drawing Room of her home. Her thoughts were here when the man whose actions kept her from her bed returned. Narcissa closed her light eyes as she heard the appearance just outside the double doors of the grand room. This home had become something of headquarters, hosting meetings and holding captives. She tried to keep away from it all as best she could. But she could tell that this was no random visitor entering her home for business purposes. She could feel that it was her husband's presence back in the manor. With a sigh, she told herself that even though he wouldn't like it, she had to talk to him about it and rose to go greet him.

Entering the foyer, she paused with wide eyes at the sight that met her. Lucius stood panting with a hand clamped down over a freely bleeding shoulder, the injury obviously causing him a great deal of pain.

"Lucius!" she gasped worriedly, hurrying to his side and reaching him just as an identical sound broke the air and her starkly opposite sister appeared as well. "What's happened?"

She asked this as she got her hands on the man, gently removing his leather gloved hand and inspecting the wound.

"It's nothing." he dismissed, assuring his wife a quick recitation of a healing spell and a salve on the area would be more than enough. That there was no need for her to worry. But her flesh and blood didn't care to keep ugly details from her at the moment.

"Potter!" she growled and Narcissa looked at her for the first time. Crimson liquid painted her lips freshly, running down her chin. Then she screeched with fury. "The little whelp's got help!"

Bellatrix then let out a scream of anger and directed her wand in a random direction resulting in a mirror shattering and spitting it's shards across the room. Lucius instinctively held his wife out of the way of the flying glass lest she get caught in the crossfire of her sister's temper. She couldn't imagine him being so protective and caring, only to turn around and inflict much worse than a few glass cuts on children. But the evidence had been right in front of her.

Still seething, Bellatrix stared at the madness of her broken reflection in the scattered remains at her feet. Then her heeled boots were clicking loudly across the floor and her sister immediately felt her stomach turn over, knowing the direction she was heading. With her temper flaring so completely, she shuddered to think what could happen to any poor creature put in its path.

"Bella." she called her name, moving forward behind her. "Sister, wait."

She did so, halting and turning impatiently to hear what she wanted to say. Blood still fresh on her face adding to the look of irreparable insanity. When she saw she had her attention, the white haired woman spoke again.

"Not tonight." she pleaded on behalf of the souls kept below.

"What?" she asked sharply.

"Not tonight, Bella. Please." she repeated. "They're children."

"Children, Cissy?" she asked as if it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Then shrieked. "Children? A mudblood and a blood traitor? They are prisoners of the Dark Lord bestowed into my care to do as I please. And I'm pleased to pay a visit. Tonight."

She turned to leave, feeling the point made and the conversation over.

"But-" she grabbed the darker woman's arm to keep her from leaving. Bellatrix ripped her limb away, fixing an intimidating glare on her sibling. Narcissa didn't doubt that if she pushed, her sister was likely to take her rage out on her.

"Careful Lucius." Bellatrix addressed the man, keeping her eyes on his wife. "My dear sister is apt to ruin the floors of your home with her bleeding heart."

Lucius stepped up, inches from the threatening woman and stated simply.

"Step back, Bella." he told her tightly. Her eyes flicked over to him then back to her sister before she turned to continue towards her destination. Narcissa reflexively took a step as if to try again to stop her. But this time her husband halted her with a firm grip on her upper arm.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked once they were alone. "If she tells the Dark Lord of this it could very well be the end of us. He won't tolerate another disappointment from this family."

"Lucius, the conditions they're in, I've never seen such on a person - and people so young at that."

"And why have you seen it now?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "You knew it couldn't possibly be something you nor I would ever want you to see for many reasons, this being one of them. Why have you been to the dungeon?"

"Draco's taken to bed all day sick."

"He'll be alright?"

"Yes." she informed him and he nodded then returned to the conversation they'd been having.

"Why did you go down there?"

"I've just told you. Draco was too ill to leave bed. He couldn't possibly have brought them their food."

"Then they do without!" he snapped, not believing this had happened. "Your sympathies will not be well received if they're found out!"

"Lucius." she tried to reason, angry yet keeping her voice controlled as a proper lady was to. "They're just children."

"They are prisoners of war." he corrected. "Enemies of our side."

"They are children." she enunciated each word directly, attempting to get her message across. She remained firm which only served to frustrate the man farther. "The things that have been done...Have they truly been done by your own hand? The very hand capable of the softest touch I've ever known."

He set his jaw and grabbed her shoulders, bringing her close to him.

"Everything," he began. "Everything these hands have done is for the betterment of this family."

He let go of her and composed himself.

"The day is fast approaching when the Dark Lord will claim complete victory. When he does, he will remember and reward those who were loyal to him."

His gray eyes narrowed drawing an unspoken point home before telling his wife.

"You'll do well to keep that in mind. Unless you'd like to experience the life of the Dark Lords enemy first hand."

Narcissa had no words to respond, too shocked by the tone he used and the threat that lie within it. He'd never spoken to her in such a fashion. He turned to leave, speaking loud enough for her to hear as he didn't look back.

"No more trips to the dungeons!"

xx

* * *

xx

Bellatrix stormed through the shadows of the dungeon, her rage so fueled her wand sparked as she held it tightly gripped. The surge of emotion and force of magic connected to it overflowing the wooden weapon with energy.

Jaw clenched and teeth bore like a vicious predator, she ignored the metallic taste of her own blood. Not making a move to wipe the liquid away, she only took stomping steps toward her targets. An outlet for her fury.

Her eyes fell on the warded door as she approached. Temper driving her; she made no plans to open it. Instead she s tabbed the air with her wand and watched it erupt, sending a bombardment of rubble and debris jetting through the air. The destruction did little to satisfy her.

While taking the last few steps, her free hand found her treasured item and pulled it out. The metal of her favorite silver blade cool in her hot hand.

xx

* * *

xx

Things were strange.

Something was different.

Warmth on her skin. Light everywhere. And colors. Such bright colors. Blue above. Green below.

There was no flow. It was a collage of images and feelings that flashed and passed. In the midst of it all, the bright orange she'd seen before was back again. But there was more to it this time. A face accompanying it.

Hermione's eyes opened.

This she knew. Dark and cold.

Something moved, brushing against her leg.

She sat up with a rush of panic and scooted herself backward away from contact. A fast thumping in her chest, she looked at the source.

Him.

She touched her fingers to her temple, eyes on the still sleeping form.

He was different. He changed what she saw in her head while she slept.

Ron awoke shortly after she did and saw her looking at him again. Watching from nearby.

She didn't seem in any discomfort, no more than usual anyway. After eating what she could the night before, she'd had a terrible stomach ache, her system not prepared for he work of digesting and breaking down anything with real substance. Fortunately, it seemed to have passed while she slept.

Ron was in the process of sitting up when the thundering explosion tore apart the air. He covered his head and hunched back down, feeling a burning pain of something scraping over his back as it soared over him.

He grimaced; lifting his head once it settled and looked toward Hermione. She seemed alright, though shaken and looking past his shoulder fearfully. He turned as well and saw the witch standing in the remains of the doorway. Her body heaving with furious breaths. His instincts torn between charging her despite being unarmed and weakened by his time in captivity, and protecting Hermione.

It was all too obvious she was not there for games. There was only anger and punishment to be dealt out because of it.

Before he could move or even wonder what had angered her so, he was across the room, hitting the wall with such force he nearly passed out from the impact. The room seemed to shake for a split second and he tried to force away the blinding daze. He was certain she wanted him out of the way to her favorite victim, but he was wrong. To his surprise, Bellatrix came right to him.

He pressed his palm to the floor and coughed, and then she was there. Those black boots in front of him, he looked up to meet the dark abyss of her soulless eyes as they glared down at him.

"Who's helping Potter?" she asked, her voice almost calm, an eerie contrast to her actions. She was truly mad. It was then that Ron noticed the red on her face, coating her lips and sliding down her skin.

"What?" Ron found himself asking, his voice displaying the pain the collision filled his body with.

Helping Harry?

The question confused him. Not because of his throbbing head, but because he honestly had no clue why she'd asked. He and Hermione had been helping him. But they clearly knew that and they obviously weren't helping him anymore. His friend hadn't even been open to that. He couldn't think of anyone he'd bring on board, especially after seeing his friend's paying the consequence of doing so.

She didn't appreciate his response. He felt the stabbing pain attack every inch of his body before her utterance of the word even reached his ears. Muscles contracting and convulsing, searching for any relief from the intensity of it.

Bellatrix angrily watched him writhe under her curse. Her eyes shooting fire at the boy with not a spark of remorse.

Behind her, Hermione witnessed the attack and felt pain of her own. The boy, the stranger, he was different. He spoke to her. He helped. The boy and that which he symbolized under attack in front of her, and it was agony. She shook her head against the noises he made. Grunting and groaning, but not screaming.

Hermione hesitantly attempted to force her body up. Bracing the wall with rough dirty palms, she began. But Bellatrix released him then, turning over her shoulder and catching her with her eyes.

Too much. Too much from her.

Hermione had been through so many twisted attacks of hers that the witch shut her down with merely a glance. Fear making her susceptible to the intimidation they held. She shrank back down. The woman returned her attention to him and asked in a shrill voice.

"Who's helping him?"

"I don't know." Ron told her, almost screaming himself.

She pointed her wand again, but said nothing. She held its aim over his heaving chest and knelt down. Brandishing her knife, she touched its tip to the skin of his cheek.

"Tell me what you know or I'll run you through." she threatened and his chest moved up and down drastically with panic. No matter what he said, she'd never believe that he didn't know. That would only anger her further, and he knew once she was done with him...

His eyes flicked toward Hermione, finding her at the far wall. He couldn't see much of her from where he lay, but could see her rail thin legs pulled up; knowing she was again making herself into a small ball of a person. He could see her limbs shaking. She must be terrified. But at least he was currently still the target.

As if reading his mind, Bellatrix followed his gaze. She spoke again, rage making her tone seem frighteningly controlled.

"Do you want to see how muddy her blood really is?" she asked quietly.

She saw the fear in the boy's eyes when they went back to her. He shook his head, pathetic tears developing.

"Don't..." he pleaded. "I don't know. It was just us. We were the only ones with him. Just us."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Liar!" she screeched and rose again. "Crucio!"

This time Ron couldn't keep from screaming out at the waves of pain attacking him. Hermione covered her ears with shaking hands, moving her head side to side jerkily; her eyes scrunched shut.

Not him.

"Ssto-op!" she fought to sound out. Then louder, with more force. "Stop!"

She opened her eyes and saw Bellatrix looking at her with patronizing amusement.

"It can speak." she stated, releasing Ron once again. "What other tricks have you learned?"

The witch's attention now completely on the girl, she turned towards her taking steps her way. Ron felt void of any energy, but did what he could manage. Grabbing to stop her, catching just the tail of her dress. It easily slipped through his fingers as he lay in too much pain for more action.

Bella came upon her.

"Stand up." she ordered, yet Hermione did not.

After a moment, as if connected to puppet strings, she felt herself stand. Having what seemed to be no say in her body, she stood straight. Stiff and rigid as a board under the will of Bellatrix's wand. The dark witch stood directly in front of her. She touched the cold point of the knife to her throat and tilted her head amused.

"Say it again." she told her, ordered her.

The brown eyes looked down, to the side, anywhere but the black pits in front of her. Bellatrix swung the hilt of the knife hard against her cheek when she didn't adhere to what she asked. The impact would have knocked her over if not for the magic holding her cemented.

Tears filled her eyes and poured out without resistance, her hand screamed to go to the throbbing spot.

"Speak!" she demanded. "Say it again!"

Still wary, she didn't do so, her cheek pulsing fire. Bellatrix pulled the knife back again, making as if she were going to striker her again. Unable to flinch as her body wished, she managed only to cry out at the threatening action. The dark lidded woman paused her action at the response and again told her.

"Say it." she repeated with a tight jaw.

"Ss..." she swallowed fearfully, stuttering out a repeat of the emotional outburst. "Stop."

Her eyes wide with madness, the Death Eater spoke quietly.

"That's what I thought you said."

Bellatrix then wasted not another breath before plunging the blade into the tender stomach of the girl in front of her. Slicing through the flesh and muscle with a nauseating squishing sound, the blade disappeared completely.

Too shocked for a scream, only a gasp escaped as the searing pain exploded from its source. The curse was lifted and her body was hers again. Legs instantly buckling, her body's attempt to fall was refused by Bellatrix and her precious blade. Her weight heavy on the sharp edge of the knife still embedded within her, she gasped in pain again, her hands going to the body in front of her for support in her shock.

As easily as it seemed to go in, it felt to Hermione like it took an eternity to slide out. Every inch it moved intensified the fire it caused until it was out.

Bella ripped her knife out after a few seconds and the girl fell back right away. Thumping against the wall as she did. She watched her cry and breathe in rapid panic and pain, shaking while her red liquid slipped between her fingers. Bellatrix stared at her. Thrilled by the undiluted terror vibrating from her; fascinated by the growing pool of crimson.

She was tempted, oh so tempted, to simply watch her bleed to death, to witness the final remnants of life snuffed out to nothing. However, it wasn't what the Dark Lord wished just yet.

Telling herself it meant she'd still have a toy to play with, the Death Eater wordlessly swished her wand, the wound righting itself under her will. The wound closed, she would not die. Though the amount of blood lost already would significantly have a say in her condition until it was righted.

Bellatrix flicked her tongue against the now red blade as if sampling what it had to offer. She then spit down on the girl and spoke.

"Even tastes like dirt." she stated though the stains of her own blood on her face appeared exactly identical to that which had collected before her. She squatted down in front of Hermione, whose lids drooped heavily, threatening to close.

"Yours is not the blood that gives orders." she stated, holding the side of the blade against the girl's pale cheek and smearing it. The smell of her own blood assaulting Hermione's senses. "Remember that, or next time I'll have your guts for garters."

The Death Eater smirked and rose. Just before reaching her full height, she felt something collided with her back. Nothing terribly hard, but enough momentum that when added to her being caught off guard, was able to knock her over. Bellatrix hit the ground, the youngest Weasley boy falling with her. The tackle knocked the wand from her hand, Ron doing everything he could to take advantage.

Letting his rage drive him, he ended up on top of her, hitting her in the face. His strength depleted, it wasn't as hard as it normally would've been. But it was keeping her down so far.

"'Mione!" he called, struggling with the woman who still had the knife on hand. "'Mione, the wand! Get 'er wand!"

Hermione forced her falling eyes open an inch more at the sound of his screams. Everything was heavy. Her head back on the wall, too much for her neck to support, was a thick fog she tried to navigate to hear the words he spoke. The boy that helped her now needed her help.

How?

His voice muddled as if she heard him underwater. Focusing her vision as best she could amidst her heavy breaths, she saw the boy was on her. Hermione saw him reaching out for something past where they were. But then he had to avoid the knife she tried to use on him. Seeing the dark stain on the blade, Hermione felt her hands tense where they rested without strength on her stomach. Her fingers slick with her own blood.

The reminders made her small gathering of energy drain once again. Her eyes sliding, but once again, his voice cut through her falling cloud.

"Hermione!"

That word again.

He said it a lot. Every time they spoke it seemed.

She had to help. If she didn't, the dark lady would hurt the boy. She didn't want that.

She rolled her head to the side, searching with glazed eyes for what he reached for. It's how she could help. Hermione let her weight slump her to the ground. Grimacing as daggers of pain flared she moved slowly in the direction his arm reached. She saw it and froze. That thing.

A stick. It was bad.

Having it was bad. When she had it, the man...The creature was there; standing in front of her. Then pain. So much pain. Then there would be others during the pain who did things. Things that hurt.

Is that what he wanted? Would the stick help?

She looked back at him, the dark lady fighting harder to get him with her knife. Hermione swallowed and extended a bloody hand, shaking as it reached fearfully for it. If it helped the boy...

She was terrified; certain as soon as she held it, she'd be taken to the creature for all of it again. With horror in her lungs, she made herself grab it, the wood loose in her blood covered hands.

It was like a boulder in her grip-less hand as she brought it towards herself. On the floor, after the actions, she felt herself creeping ever more closely to the darkness she'd been fending off. But once she had the weapon near her, she felt absolutely emptied.

She couldn't do anymore.

She'd tried. Tried to help. She hoped the boy would be ok. That he wouldn't be mad at her. Maybe he wouldn't be different anymore if he was.

Ron saw her weakly get ahold of the witch's fallen wand and felt a surge of new hope. But she slowed her already slow movements and then laid still. Seeming like it was within reach, he tried to stretch for it, if she couldn't get it to him. As he reached out, Bellatrix managed to swipe his outstretched arm with her blade.

He grunted and felt the base of the knife hit him in the temple. The young wizard fell aside, his nerves torn between throbbing pain in his skull and the burning cut on his arm. The fragile advantage was lost.

Bellatrix stood quickly, swinging her boot hard into his stomach. Nausea immediately spinning through him as he rolled away. She then went speedily for her wand, ripping it from the girl's pitiful hold with unnecessary force. Repeating the same action then, her foot connecting angrily with her side.

Bellatrix, bleeding more now and breathing heavy looked between the two of them.

"Seems you've forgotten your places here." she taunted, licking her tongue over her lip, catching the coppery taste. "A quick lesson should fix you right up."

x

x

x

x


	11. In The People's Key

**A/N: Wowzer. I gotta say I was certain with the last chapter I'd be ducking projectiles and wearing Kevlar every time I leave the house. Maybe change my name, send my family away to hide them. But luckily that's not the case, you guys are awesomely receptive. And especial thanks to those who gave reviews/emails that really dove in and gave me their perspective on the entirety of the story. Regardless of your guys' understand of the ugly, I can tell you it definitely won't be that way forever. Just hold on hope. **

**P.S. I've been trying to put this up since wednesday (3/23) but for some reason the darn site keep sending me this error message when I try. If you're reading this, however, it seems I was finally successful!**

**P.P.S. A BILLION THANKS TO potterhead0013 for helping me out and basically being the hero responsible for finally getting this update out here.**

**You're my new best friend!**

* * *

_"Oh just let me go the prisoner moans. No one has to know."- A Machine Spiritual (In The People's Key) by Bright Eyes_

* * *

Narcissa paced with wringing hands out the shut door of the room where the meeting was currently taking place. The news that Potter again evaded capture and that he again had assistance in his corner in doing so was being addressed. She knew the failures were considered to rest on the shoulders of her husband and sister. They would, no doubt, be severely punished for it as was the practice of the Dark Lord.

However, she found it difficult to feel sorry for Bella. When she tried to conjure up sympathy for the pain that was surely coming her way if it hadn't already begun, Narcissa's mind instead presented her with the image of her dark sister emerging from the depths of the house. Appearing disheveled, dirt amongst the newly torn fabric she wore. It seemed she had been involved in some sort of scuffle, but before anything could be inquired, she'd seen her sister's gaze. Once she'd noticed the pale eyes watching her, Bellatrix held her knife, painted red and wet with blood, for Narcissa to see and smirking. For that and the many moments like it throughout their lives, she felt very little remorse other than that which was necessary per their shared blood.

Knowing everyone was in the meeting and that the gatherings seldom ended before a good number of hours had passed, she got a thought. One that she pondered on a moment, allowing it to grow and convince her before she headed away from her spot outside the door.

Opening the cabinet to the house's potions store, her eyes roamed the jars and vials of different colors and viscosity. She'd come to the same cabinet many times over her years for many reasons, but this time she found a difference that gave her pause. There were no longer labels on any of the containers. She didn't have the eyes for potions her husband, and now even her son, did. Lucius knew this and just as long ago he'd begun putting labels on everything to make it simpler for her, he had no doubt removed them to make it more difficult.

He suspected he couldn't trust her not to try to help after their argument. He was right. But now she didn't know how she possibly could unless she suddenly remembered her potions studies from so many years ago.

Hesitantly, she pulled one from its place and removed the stopper. She brought it to her nose and grimaced at the bitter scent.

"Found some boils, Narcissa?" the sudden appearance of the drawling voice surprised her.

She turned around suddenly with a gasp and a jump that nearly caused her to drop the glass tube.

"Severus." She greeted the dark man, a hand over her racing heart. "You've given me an awful fright."

"My apologies, it was unintentional I assure you." He stated with the familiar silk of his deep voice.

"Quite alright." She forgave than recalled what he'd said. "Boils you said?"

"Yes." He answered sounding terribly unamused. "That which you hold in your hand soothes and removes boils."

The woman made an obviously disgusted face and returned it to the shelf.

"Silly me." She dismissed. "I was searing for a simple remedy for a headache."

The man eyed her suspiciously before reaching forward and pulling out a blue colored concoction and handing it to her.

"Thank you."

"You're most welcome." He returned and watched her.

Narcissa feared he would know what her true intentions had been. Sure she could confide in him about her fears for Draco, but this was different. He was a Death Eater, and she was sneaking around to help those whom had been named the enemy. He suddenly turned from her, facing the nameless vials in the cabinet again.

"I simply came to check your store to make certain there will be enough of what would be helpful after Lucius and Bellatrix…converse with the Dark Lord." His black eyes scanned the shelves, his pale hands making easy work of touching specific ones, moving them ever so slightly to ensure they would stand out.

"For pain." He made as if listing it for his own thoughts, his fingers adjusting one before going to another. "Infections, a blood replenisher perhaps."

Narcissa stood aside, watching intently as his experienced hands navigated and indicated each one. She made a mark in her mind as he did so. After a moment, Snape turned back to her with a nod.

"Yes there seems to be more than enough here." He stated. "Much more."

"Fortunate for my husband." She told him, hoping her ruse remained.

"Very." He responded dryly, folding his hands in front of him. "I must return. Excuse me."

"Of course." She nodded as he walked by her.

In the doorway, Severus paused a moment and watched her go toward the shelves, her hands immediately going to those which he'd made a show of mentioning. He then turned to continue to his destination after her slender grasp grabbed the first one. The woman was a horrendous liar.

Narcissa turned to look behind her and let out a breath of relief, feeling a moment ago as though she were being watched but finding only vacant space behind her.

X

* * *

X

Remember your place.

That's what Bellatrix wanted them to do. To remember they were inferior, helpless and completely at the mercy of her and her companions. She'd promised a lesson, and Ron knew she would deliver on it.

He had no idea how long he laid after she left, the door repairing behind her. Half conscious, in too much pain to move. He was vaguely aware of the quiet breathing in the room that wasn't his.

He ached to get up, to go to Hermione and see what condition she was in, knowing it couldn't be anything close to good. But he couldn't form the strength to move against the pained resistance of his muscles. As if he had no solid bones within him, Ron lay heavy on the ground. He drifted in and out of consciousness. A few times he'd come around with fresh tears on his face he didn't remember crying.

He gave each tear a name. Named after those he wept for.

Harry. Ginny. George. Fred. Bill. Charlie. Mum and Dad. A few for himself. More for Hermione.

In his conscious moments, he wanted to call out to her. His dry throat burned with her name in its sore cave. He could hear her breathing, occasionally a small sound would drift into the air riding out on her breath. He couldn't tell if she was consciously making them or if she slept. Perhaps she was like him, lounging somewhere in between the two. After a while, when he felt he could no longer just lie there, he swallowed hard and ignored the pain.

Calling on everything he had left, Ron rolled over and forced his way to where she lay not very far away. His clothing scuffling and dragging along the dirt and blood, made his way there. She was on her side facing him, eyes half closed. He braced his weight on his elbows, tilting his head to inspect her features as best he could. A dark angry mark blotched on the too pale skin of her cheek. Her dry cracked lips parted slightly, the stale air passing in and out.

Ron felt familiar burn in his eyes. Images of those lips the way they were meant to be flashing before him: moist and full, pulled back to border a brilliant smile. He thought of her eyes, alive with the fire of intelligence and storms of deep emotions. Her voice was supposed to travel miles at a time with a wealth of eloquence and strength that even his imagination knew to provide in the days when he thought she only lived in his head.

He reached out, tentatively sliding hair off her face. As he'd been forced to predict, her breath hitched as his fingers grazed her skin. Her eyes opened a bit more and focused in on him. Ron waited a minute, regarding the weariness in her eyes; a sad, tired, hopelessness he despised seeing within her.

She held his eyes and he searched for something to say other than how dreadfully sorry he was for so many things. He yearned to tell her how he felt about her; how deeply it ran through his blood and being. Even if she didn't understand it, he needed to say the words. Believing that on some level, she would understand him and know how much he meant it. If they were going to die there, however slow or fast the process, if they were going to go through hell, he couldn't keep the words to himself any longer.

"Hermione, I…"he began whispering with a crack in his hoarse voice. He cleared his throat, hoping to return some strength to it before opening his mouth to speak again. But he stopped before he could begin.

Her hand moved from where it lay looking almost lifeless of the floor. He watched the delicately exhausted limb move toward him, sliding on the floor. It raised off the ground a bit, a few inches maybe, shaking with physical exertion of the action before it dropped back down. Hermione let out what he'd say sounded like a defeated whimper and his heart broke again for it. The wet broken eyes looked up at him after her failure.

Wanting to help however he could, comfort in anyway, he held her sad eyes and looked for a clue as to how he could do that. Her longing eyes gave him a thought. Taking the risk, Ron gently put his filthy hand over hers, feeling it tense under his touch, and brought it up as she'd attempted to do. Leaning his head down a bit more, he put her hand into the unkempt mess of hair on his head.

He felt her fingers move a little within the locks and knew he had the right idea. He smiled a little smile and felt the smallest spark of relief. Perhaps he was supposed to feel ridiculous, being pet like a housecat, but he didn't. He only cared that it seemed to help her; that it was some connection to the life they had before all this.

"You like my hair, don't you?" he asked, seeing the bit of comfort she found in it. He closed his eyes. "I wish you remembered me."

He kept a good hold on her wrist, letting her touch remain. Then a truer thought came to him.

"I wish you remembered you."

Her eyes held his, her fingers stroking the unwashed orange; he could almost read within them that she wanted the same things he did. That she wanted to know him and her and what was going on.

The door opened and he felt her hand instinctively twitch to pull away and he let go, allowing her to do so; the hand dropped with a small smack to the floor. Ron immediately turned, figuring that it was Bellatrix returning with the lesson they were promised. Though he knew he couldn't do much by way of fighting her off the both of them still too affected by her previous tirade, he'd do as much as he could to protect Hermione.

But it wasn't her. It was the Malfoy matriarch coming quickly inside and closing the door behind her. She looked over her shoulder and right away gave Ron the impression that she wasn't supposed to be there.

Narcissa came right to them and instantly knelt in front of Ron. She looked behind her again and then retrieved a few vials of different colors, giving them to Ron.

"Take these." She told him.

"What is it?" he asked suspiciously as he took them from her.

"Potions." She answered with an obvious response as she moved passed him and gave her attention over to the girl, rolling her onto her back carefully earning a sound of frightful protest. She still spoke to Ron as she pulled out another group of potions and removed the stopper from the blood replenishing liquid. "For pain, infection…"

Narcissa slid her hand beneath Hermione's head, wincing at the vocal reaction from the foreign touch. The woman lifted the girls head tipping the contents of the vial into her mouth. Hermione reflexively coughed and sputtered as it worked down her throat.

"Shh." She told her softly, giving a second for the first to go down completely before grabbing another with her free hand.

Ron had moved up beside her, unplugging the container for her and asking.

"Why you doing this?" he wondered, happy to see some color already returning to Hermione's skin. "Why you helping us?"

Narcissa looked sadly at the girl as she repeated the action with the second concoction and receiving an identical bodily response from her.

"Because it's the right thing to do." She answered, and then turned to him. "Because I believe in the world you fight for. A better one for my son."

She paused and then said.

"Because this is my house."

Ron looked at her a moment, deciding to take a chance and believe that she spoke the truth. That her intentions were truly…true. He then looked at Hermione as Narcissa gently returned her head to the ground to let the potions take effect.

"Then will you help us?" he asked, getting her to look back up at him. "Really help us?"

"What can I do?"

X

X

X


	12. A Line Allows Progress A Circle Does Not

**A/N: Many major apologies for the lengthy space between updates. I had this ready a while ago, then decided I wanted to change a few things and I had quite the trouble finding the time to rewrite it with the changes. **

* * *

"_You're going to wake from this coma; you're going to crawl from this bed."_

-'_A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not_ by Bright Eyes.

* * *

She was willing to help them...to an extent.

Nothing extreme for the sake of not endangering the woman who clearly wanted to help. She was wary of what he would ask of her. Her family's safety, mainly her son's, at the forefront of her mind. If Voldemort knew she was aiding them it would surely be death for all of them, and that would be the merciful punishment. But for the moment, Ron only had three questions.

Is it possible to disapparate from the dungeons?

No.

What's the fastest route out of them?

Straight down the corridor, around the corner and up the stairs.

And the most important one in his mind: What day of the week is it?

Saturday.

Ron thanked her and asked nothing more for now. She seemed appreciative that she helped on some level and that he hadn't asked her to do anything that would endanger her family. Narcissa left with the same caution she'd had when she entered; promising to return when she could.

He sat back, feeling the medicinal potions doing their job, and thought. He had, somehow, formed a plan. It was shaky, dangerous and wildly dependent on two things.

The first being Hermione.

He looked to where she slept as her name remained stamped on his brain. She already looked better. Not drastically, but compared to where she'd been, much better.

He sighed, realizing the second variable. They had to survive the next three days.

The details and scenarios in his head, Ron laid his head down on his arm and let sleep come his way. When he woke, if Bellatrix let them be, he would start working on their hope of escape.

* * *

The thick wood of the log under him was dreadfully uncomfortable. Or at least it should've been. It would've been if Harry gave any portion of his energy to such trivial thoughts as comfort. It had been almost two weeks since he and Ron separated in those woods. He promised him two days, but Harry stayed for almost a week at the cottage waiting for him to show.

He certainly received all measure of questions from Bill who inquired about what Harry was doing and where his younger brother was. Harry couldn't think to say anything other to the fairly newlywed man than:

"He's coming."

The young wizard's ears perked at the sound of leaves crunching under someone's foot.

"It'll be dark soon." the man told him and Harry bit down his urge to tell him that darkness had settled long ago.

He'd refused, at first, his insistence to come alone when he found Harry was now alone. Harry just couldn't bear the thought of anyone else he cared for paying the price that came with being in his life. But in the end, the need for companionship, for human interaction, was far too great for him to turn away. And above all, Harry knew he couldn't really do it alone.

He looked up at the increasingly black sky, feeling the all too familiar tears prick the corners of his eyes. He heard a sigh and the man sat next to him.

"Harry." he began. "I know you've suffered great loss, that you're hurting on a deeper level than anyone else could understand, but you can't let it blind your focus. It was a close call this time, Harry. Too close."

Harry turned his head away, not wanting to think about the near escape with the Death Eaters that left his body sore and exhausted though his mind wouldn't register it. All he was doing lately was failing the people that mattered most and dying without completing the task Dumbledore had given him would be the greatest of all. Yet, his reflexes were slow, his focus obscured. He'd barely registered they were found until it was almost too late.

"Harry." the voice getting his attention again, "I've accepted that you won't tell me everything about this job you're doing, but you have to offer me some trust."

Harry looked at him with watery eyes and confessed.

"I'm a failure, professor." he told him.

He put an arm around the boy's shoulders and told him.

"You are no failure Harry Potter." Remus said with conviction. "And I'm no professor."

* * *

"Hermione?"

Ron spoke her name, hating to wake her from much needed rest. But they didn't have much time.

Three days.

He had three days to make at least enough of a breakthrough with her to do what needed to be done in order for the dangers plan of his to have a chance of working. He reached out, gently grasping her shoulder and nudging it slightly. She woke with a gasp and quickly backed away. Panting from the sudden adrenaline and looking around the dark room frantically before settling her eyes on him. Ron saw more color returned to her skin, though she was still paled from her time in darkness, and there seemed to be a degree of strength renewed in her movements. Despite her generally rough appearance, he still took in the sight of her with awe. He had to wonder if he'd have survived as long as she in the same situation. Alone for so long without a touch of kindness, left in the dark with only her tormented mind as company…if it had been him, he couldn't say what state he'd be in. If he'd find a way to keep breathing every day.

Hermione moved to sit up, leaning against the wall before him.

She pressed the heel of her hand against her temple and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and Ron wondered if she was in any residual pain. Perhaps the potion for the pain was beginning to wear off. When she opened her eyes again, she held his blues and removed her hand. He waited a breath and decided just to jump right in.

"I've got an idea," he began, "on how we can maybe get out."

She continued to stare at him. Ron could see her focusing, furrowing her brow and squinting at him working on deciphering his words. He licked his lips and continued, making sure not to let them fall out faster than she could analyze them in case anything he said didn't get across. He still wasn't sure how much she understood or what other limitations he had yet to discover. He kept his tone even, the pace of his words calm without being too terribly slow. Parts of him feeling if he didn't treat her much differently than he normally would, she _wouldn't_ be any different.

"I need your help though." he told her. "It's dangerous and might not work, but it might. I think, I know you can do it and if you do, then it's got a real chance."

He paused and let his words hang in the air a few seconds and then asked hopefully.

"Will you help?"

He paused, waiting for a response of some sort from her; a sign that she understood and either agreed or disagreed. He moved closer to her and happily registered that she showed no signs of retreat.

She took a few moments of simply looking at him before she nodded. Ron's mind suddenly birthed a question. Did she nod because she understood and agreed or was it simply because she somehow figured the gesture would please him? That it was what he wanted to see?

"Ok." he started, beginning with a simply question. "Do you remember using magic?"

She looked at him, biting her bottom lip and again saying nothing. Ron realized it wasn't the smartest question; if she didn't recall him, her friends, and her life…why would he assume that was any different.

He hadn't honestly expected her to answer yes. But he hoped that maybe by some subconscious effort, she'd retained the smallest memory of her vast skills.

"Come on, 'Mione." he pleaded as if the choice was hers at all. "Please tell me you remember something."

Hermione sensed his desperate frustration; it practically radiated off of him in waves. Worried that he'd become upset with her, that maybe he'd begin to act as they did, she tried to give him an answer he would be happy with.

Scooting closer she again moved her hand to his hair. He always smiled when she did this.

"No." he told her softly and sighed, gently grabbing her wrist and removing her hand. "I know you remember that. I need to know what else there is. _Anything. _Anything at all?"

Her orbs locked onto his with intensity and her hand touched shakily to his lips after a hesitant moment. Ron tried his best to contain the quivering it instilled in his organs as her fingers made contact with his lips. The first thing his mind said to him was that she remembered kissing him. That was until he reminded himself that they had never kissed outside of his dreams. She pulled away and he shook his head.

"I don't understand." he confessed sadly. "Are you saying you remember my mouth?"

Her brow furrowed and she touched him again. This time her touch not lingering but the pads of her fingers tapped him twice, then she touched the same fingers to the side of her skull.

"Your head." he tried to solve the puzzle with no success. He moved his hands, as if mimicking an awkward game of charades. He pointed to his lips, "My mouth," he then pointed towards her. "…is in your head?"

Hermione watched his actions, attaching his words to them. She groaned in what he could assume was frustration. It reminded him of the old ways his inability to come to her conclusions would irritate her. He couldn't help the tickle of smile before returning to the moment.

"I'm sorry." he apologized, gesturing a hand to and from his mouth. "Try to say it. Like you did before; try to tell me. I know you can. Just focus and try. You can do it."

She looked down, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes and lifting her gaze only to look at the wall for about a minute. She looked at him once more and he could see it upset her as much as it did him that she couldn't grasp everything he asked of her just yet.

"Ok." he told her. "Let's not think about it right now, alright?"

Her watered eyes focused in on him and he offered a smile as best he could.

"But we do need to work on getting out. When Tuesday comes..." he sighed not wanting to think about how much he'd hate that day for the rest of his life. He could see the familiarity of the word affect her; the association in her mind making her pull her legs up against chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her protective pose. "When Tuesday comes so will Bellatrix. Just like always. She'll have your wand. When she gives it to you, all you need to do is toss it over. That's all you have to do. Then I'll do the rest. Ok? Just get it to me and I'll get us out."

She didn't answer other than to unwrap herself and move a little closer. Sitting in front of him she thought on the unusual feeling she had in his presence. It began small, an inkling almost and slowly spread and grew the longer he was there with her.

Something in his appearance, in the way he looked at her, spoke to her...Treating her as a human, as person. He invoked more than familiarity, something much more. She put her hands up in front of him, a few inches from his face. His blue eyes looked at her dirty palms then to her swirling brown irises and nodded the slightest movement of his head. With his permission, she carefully laid her hands on his face as she had nights ago.

This time when he closed his eyes under her touch, she mimicked his actions. Behind her black eyelids, she could still see his features as her fingers traveled over them. She sucked in a quivering breath, willing something to unscramble. Something tugged in her chest, another piece of the unknown things stirred by her cellmate. All she knew was Hermione liked it, whatever it was.

She opened her eyes and took her hands from his face, uncovering him. Ron, too, lifted his eyelids and found her. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but the three words he'd never spoken before suddenly didn't feel like enough. His eyes followed her gaze down where she was sliding a hand over his, the contact so light, his palm tickled beneath hers. His breath hitched in his throat and she looked up, his response making her fearful that she shouldn't be doing it. But he nixed it right away, opening his hand wide as it could go and nodded again the same approval. Telling her his reaction was brought on by nothing other than the remarkable power her touch had over him. And the incredible display of trust she was showing with her action.

After getting his assurance, she watched her action again. Laying her small hand more presently atop his. She matched finger for finger for a short second, then slid hers into the empty spaces between his. A quick glance upward, as if checking to ensure safety as she tread these new waters, she then slowly closed her hand, now effectively holding his.

Ron's heart pounded fiercely and she looked to his eyes. He kept his gaze on her, swallowing and searching for signs of protest as he took a chance of his own and closed his hand as well. When he did, she cast her eyes down to their hands but did nothing to indicate he had crossed a line. Looking at their entwined hands, Ron felt a surge in his chest, tears beginning to burn in his eyes. His voice was only a whisper, but overwhelmed with the incredible emotion inspired by a girl he met on a train seven years ago.

"'Mione..."

At his voice, she raised her head to gaze at him. The wrinkles appeared in her brow again as she looked into him.

"My...?" her voice quiet and rough, attempted to repeat the sounds as a confused question.

Ron was slightly shocked and excited at the same time. It was the first she'd inquired anything from him about herself. Baby steps, but it was a start. If it went well, maybe he really could get her to, if not remember, just to know.

"Your name." he told her, clearing his throat and stumbling on a lump in his throat. "Well, it's a not your name really. It's more of a nickname, you know."

When he realized he was rambling, he let out a nervous laugh and shook his head a bit. "Sorry."

"It'd like this, see?" He began and put a hand on his chest.

"Ron." he told her, hoping to jog her mind. "That's me."

He patted his chest with his free hand and repeated himself.

"Ron." he then gestured to her. "Hermione."

Her eyes followed his actions and he thought maybe she understood. So he again touched his hand to himself and said his name. Next he looked to her, extending his arm in her direction and asking.

"You're..."

She kept her eyes on his extended arm a few moments before looking back up to his eyes. That look in her eyes again. So Ron tried putting her at ease with a smile and assuring her it was ok, and then repeated the actions and their respective names. After a moment, he again, gestured to her and asked the open ended question.

"HH..." she started hesitantly, getting an encouraging nod from him and continuing. "Herr...Her...m-mynee."

She looked cautiously for approval and Ron instantly was thrilled. His smile took over his face and he spoke excitedly.

"That's right!" practically ready to bounce in place. "Yes!"

"I'm Ron." He began again, too thrilled to take a break from what they were doing, and waited for her.

"Herr-m-mynee."

"Yes!" he said again, ecstatic though the pronunciation could use work, it was in progress of becoming a single flow.

Then something happened.

Something new.

She smiled.

His praise and elation brought about an exhale from her that could have been a small laugh and she smiled. Despite everything, it was even more beautiful than he ever remembered it.

"Once more." he instructed, not wanting to stop just yet. "Ron."

When he extended his hand to gesture towards her again, she took it in her cold small one. Now holding both of his hands spoke quietly.

"Ron."

X

X

x


	13. Out Of My Head

**A/N: So I've literally been away forever and I'm super sorries for it. In truth from the last chapter I had this going in one direction and then decided, Hey, I've got a better idea…and also, in regards to what's happened so far in the story, a more realistic path for it to take. As realistic as you **_**can**_** be in a story about witches and wizards :P Anyway, trust me when I say, I will never take **_**that**_** long to update again! **

**Cross my hearts!**

* * *

"_I never mean to do bad things to you." –'Out Of My Head' _by Fastball

* * *

_He squinted up at the bright sky; the sun shone brightly illuminating the colors with an almost unreal vibrancy. He held his hand up over his eyes to shield his eyes from the unexpected brightness of the burning star above him. His eyes adjusted and he realized he was sitting on something soft. Ron cast his eyes down towards it, gazing at the bright green color of it with all the wonder of seeing it for the first time. _

_He ran his hand through the blades, feeling them tickle his palm. He found a smile tug at his lips and decided to take another look at the sky now that his eyes weren't so surprised by the light. Ron took in the flawless expanse of blue above him and rose to stand. Almost ready to cry at the sight of it, he barely managed to pull his eyes away at the sound of approaching company. They came quickly and he turned to see who it was that had interrupted the moment he was experiencing. _

_Whoever it was, stopped behind the trunk of a large tree he hadn't noticed until then._

_Ron approached it cautiously, on instinct reaching for a wand that wasn't there as he did. When he was closer, he saw a slender hand appear around the thick trunk, curved to match the turn of the plant. He took a step to the side of the trunk, searching for a visual of who was now with him. He braced himself and moved quickly around the wood, freezing when he saw who was in front of him. _

_Hermione. _

His_ Hermione. It was her…as he remembered her; as she'd been. She stood straight and tall, her eyes lighting up with recognition instantly when he came into view. _

"_Hermione." He said, unsure if he could trust his eyes or not, to his amazement she let out a laugh. _

"_You've found me." She said, still smiling. _

_Ron looked her over, a grin tugging at the side of his lips and he spoke curiously._

"_I found you." He said in response, feeling like it meant so much more than the words would ever be able to symbolize. _

"_Well let's try again. You won't be so lucky twice." She teased and looked as though she were preparing to take off through the trees. _

"_Wait, Hermione." He said, confused by what was going on._

_But his words didn't stop her and before he knew it she was gone again. Turning in a circle, he looked for a trace of her and found none._

"_Hermione!"_

Ron woke sharply, not in the sunny world he'd just been in, but instead in the cold, darkness he'd become accustomed to. The Hermione that he'd see there wouldn't be the one he'd just been with all too briefly.

The first thing he recognized was his pounding headache. Squeezing his eyes shut again he wondered what happened. He ordered his mind to bring forth the last thing he remembered.

He and Hermione.

He'd been working with her some more. There wasn't too much to show for all their effort to an outside viewer, but knowing what they started with Ron knew it was equal to a mountain of progress. He didn't know how long they spent doing it, but he knew that before they were interrupted she was saying his name and recognizing its representation very well. Her own name was a bit more difficult for her to deliver as smoothly as he did, but it was very near perfection. He had begun trying to remind her some more simple words when…

Ron's eyes burst open as it all returned to him.

Lucius Malfoy's angered face appeared in his mind as it had in the cell, marked from what looked to be a fresh round of torture with his master. He had blamed them for the punishment he apparently received. Ron said something snarky, only making things worse when the man struck him with a painful wave of his wand.

He remembered Hermione's voice saying his name and in his daze his first thought was of pride for her.

Ron wasn't sure what happened then, while he was trying to regain his bearings from the blow. He never worried much about her when it was just Malfoy with them. He never gave her much attention, but something had happened, apparently to change that. Perhaps it was simply that she'd spoken after he struck Ron, she could've done something else he hadn't seen, or it was possibly even something Malfoy had planned before even coming down there.

But what he knew next was the worst of it.

He remembered his body moving, though he gave it no orders to do so. There was a fog in his mind and he forced himself to struggle as best he could against the strength of what he knew to be the Imperius Curse, which caused the start of the aching in his forehead.

Ron shook his head forcefully back and forth, his mind refusing to erase the feel of her skin as his hands moved on another's command, wrapped around her throat and squeezing. Her eyes burned into his memory, looking up into his with confusion and desperate fear. All manner of trust they had established faded the harder he pressed into her windpipe.

His mental struggle had virtually no effect other than to give him a headache.

It was when a hand, his but not his, left her neck and traveled down...when her eyes managed to get even wider and her legs kicked to keep him from being another on her list of violators...that he started having an effect.

The pain in his head was excruciating, but he refused to concede in his inner battle.

His hand froze and squeezed her thigh with all force of tension his body had as the dueling commands raged a war within him. He could feel how hard his grip was on her tender skin, and knew he was hurting her; but he'd rather anything else- _anything else - _than hurt her like that. Forcing an intimacy that should only be shared between two people under the truest intentions.

He remembered feeling like his skull was being split apart, the intensity overwhelming until his body finally gave up and he fell over unconscious. Now he forced himself up and immediately scanned for her in the dark.

He found her.

"_You've found me"_ Her voice from the strange dream sprung into his mind and he shook his head to focus. He knew he'd have time to wonder about that later on.

There on the floor, where she'd been before his body finally mercifully quit on him; where Malfoy had apparently left her. Her arms were still lying above her head as they'd been before. His eyes went to her hands and saw the ropes birthed from the Death Eater's wand still bound tightly around her wrists. Ron forced himself to move despite the needles that traveled down his spine as he did so. He came to her and was surprised to see her eyes open; he had assumed that she too had been out just as he was. Her eyes were open and staring at the ceiling above them, not moving to him when he came near as if she didn't see him at all.

"Hermione?" he said her name, looking for a reaction from the girl. Nothing came from her and he instantly went to the ropes around her hands.

His tugged at the rough bounds, feeling the coarse fibers prick and scratch at his fingers and palms as he worked them. After a few moments, Ron finally felt the ropes loosen and give under his attempt. He untangled them from the jutting bones of her wrist and ran his fingers carefully over the area he knew to have been worn and welted from them.

"I'm sorry." He whispered as he did so, and gently moved her arms to a more natural position at her sides.

He looked her over for any details he might be able to see, any evidence of anything else that may have happened after he blacked out. But he saw nothing that stood out and screamed to him. She remained motionless, save for the ups and downs of her chest and the occasional blink of her eyes; the only bits of proof that she still lived. He thought, maybe, she was in shock from what had happened. The person, the _only_ person she'd found she could trust….

He shook his head, feeling the sting and run of fresh tears and tried getting her attention again.

"Hermione?" his voice wavered and he reached out to brush the dirty hair unnecessarily around her face.

It was here, when his finger brushed against her skin that he got a reaction from her. He jerked in place as she took a sharp intake of breath and her far away eyes began to focus in on her world again. They flew amongst the darkness wildly until coming to rest on Ron. Before he could think to say or do anything, she began fiercely shaking her head side to side on the floor.

"'Mione…" he tried softly but she only shook her head again.

Her arms shook as she wrapped them around herself and turned her back to him as she curled around herself on her side.

He could see how she continued to quiver slightly. He couldn't believe he'd caused this; that he had even the minutest part to play in that. He reached towards her, but hesitated.

Ron paused his movements, wondering how much damage it had done. How far back it knocked her from all the progress she'd made in the time he'd been there.

He forced his eyes shut, his hands shaking as they recalled the feeling of her skin beneath them. His stomach lurched with bile. He shook his own head again and put his hand to his forehead despairingly.

She wouldn't trust him now. He was just like everyone else; all her tormentors. He'd hurt her and tried to do more. Even though it wasn't him, not really, how was she to know that?

Ron didn't see her letting him tell her anything anymore. With such a short time at their disposal, Ron knew the odds of pulling off his idea were incredibly slim to non-existent. That would mean it would be another week, if they survived long enough, before the opportunity would appear again.

And what state would either of them be in then? Would he be closer to her mental state than she to his?

Maybe there really was no hope.

He sighed, thinking of the bruises around her neck that were identical to the lining of his own fingers.

If by some miracle they did ever get out, if they lived to be old and wrinkled, their time here a whisper of a memory, Ron knew he'd never get over having harmed her. Regardless of not being in control of himself; it had still been his hands that had committed violence and his eyes she looked into while it happened.

If they wanted to punish him, torture him thoroughly, they should celebrate. They'd done an immaculate job. Having Hermione cower from him, wearing marks of pain, both physical and mental, because of him...it was the worst he'd experienced yet.

Watching her again in a bubble of fear, her shaky trust for him ruined with the addition of betrayal he knew she felt for letting down her guard. They were geniuses in the darkest ways.

Not able to simply sit and watch her submerge in the feelings he'd inspired, Ron tried again to communicate his desperate apology.

"Hermione," he tried again, seeing her flinch when his voice came in the air.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't me, I'd never..." he trailed off, hearing something coming from her. Whispers, it seemed.

He inched a bit closer, wondering what she was saying. But not noticeable enough to make her think he was advancing on her again.

"'Hermione?" he asked, and she tensed up, scrunching her eyes. This time her voice was coming out with it, just enough for him to hear.

"No." she was saying quietly. "No. No. No."

He sighed and thought about his plan of escape. Maybe he didn't need her to toss the wand his way when Bellatrix came. If she wasn't able to hold on to what he'd said to her, or to follow through with what he asked of her, perhaps it would still be doable. He may be able to do it himself. Simply take Bellatrix by surprise and get the wand away from her before she had a chance to use it against them. Then they'd have their chance to go.

Even if she no longer trusted him, he was certain it wouldn't take an incredible amount of strength for him to get her through the dungeons to an area in which they could apparate to a safe place. Of course, his true longing was for her to go with him without struggle, trusting him to lead her to safety.

He moved closer, with her back to him, she didn't see the movements he made.

Ron didn't speak a word to get her attention, though he was fairly certain she could hear him moving and was only tensing further as she repeated the same word quicker.

He sat down beside her, jumping ten steps ahead of the pace it originally took for him to get to that point. Saying nothing, reached out carefully and put his hand on her back feeling the shudders and tension of her muscles beneath the contact. He hoped it wouldn't take too long for her to realize he wasn't doing anything to her. But there was no telling anymore, she remained hidden from him and her muscles remained contracted in anticipation of pain.

The young man wasn't sure how much time had gone by before he felt her start to slowly ease and he no longer heard the quick whisper.

It became silent, save for the sound of breathing and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep. But she hadn't and after a few moments of silence, he felt her unclasp her arms from around her body and begin to move. He removed his hand and watched her pull herself to a sitting position in front of him. When she sat, she was inches from him, and noticed their proximity before slowly scooting herself back until she met the wall.

Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them; an all too familiar position by now. Her brown irises studied him for a short while as he kept his remorseful glance on her, itching to pull her into him and sob apologies into her hair until she understood how much it killed him to know what had happened. Ron forced himself to remain still and waited for her to determine what exchange, if any, they were to have.

Her dry lips moved after another brief moment.

"Don't."

Ron returned her gaze and knew what she was trying to say.

Though he'd had no say in what happened, he took it upon himself to answer her with what he prayed more than anything was a true statement. He shook his head and replied.

"I won't." he promised. "Never again."

xxx

xxx


	14. Walk Through The Fire

**A/N: Hey all! Here I am with an update…and this is the big'n! Chap 14: The Escape Attempt! Will it work? I don't know! Yes I do! But you don't! Not yet…**

* * *

_"These endless days are finally ending in a blaze."_

_'Walk Through the Fire'_

by Cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

* * *

Ron was starving.

He was filthy and exhausted, desperately in need of a shower and a deep sleep. He knew she felt all the same things he was and more. Undoubtedly much more.

But what he knew above that was that it didn't matter. It couldn't matter today.

Yesterday Bellatrix came to them again. But did nothing to either of them. Nothing physical anyway. She came in making a lot of racket, screeching her wand along the walls as she did so. Banging on the warded door and cackling maniacally when they jumped at the loud sound it made. A lot happier, clearly, then the last time they'd endured her presence.

She taunted them, telling them that tomorrow was a special day.

"An extra special Tuesday." looking at him when she said it.

It made Ron certain that it would be an especially awful day and wondered what plan they had to make it so. He'd determined he'd be made some part of the sick display of ceremony, as participant or witness. Either way, he knew it was crucial that they never find out.

He spoke quietly, knowing his cellmate was still in the process of rediscovering the amount of comfort they had previously managed to develop. It was a variable of his plan that he hated more than anything; whether or not she'd be able to trust him when it truly mattered. All because Lucius Malfoy had a heart whose cruelty Ron believed was only surpassed by his sister-in-law and dark ruler

The Malfoy patriarch didn't touch muggleborns, so he made Ron do it and thus beat two birds down with one swing.

"'Mione." he said her name and saw her instantly stir despite the soft volume of his voice.

She must've been sleeping extremely light. Ron couldn't blame her, he hadn't slept at all. His mind up all night with all manner of scenarios, both good and bad.

She rose, having slept close to where he sat against the wall, but not touching. She sat up, looking at him with careful eyes and he could tell that, unlike the previous Tuesday he'd been present for, she was aware of the importance of the day. Maybe it was because of him that she realized it; maybe it wasn't that she knew the day, but that she sensed from him the importance of waking up today.

Hermione looked around their empty cell then back to him.

Whichever reason, however she recognized it, she knew what the day meant. When Bellatrix came through the door today, she knew what it would be for. There was a slight shake in her form and she let her fear show to Ron in her eyes. Ron understood, he felt that same fear… but he tried to keep a calm surface to reassure her as much as he could.

"It's going to be ok." he told her what he wished to be true.

Please, God, don't make him out to be a liar.

"You can do it." he promised her. "You can do this Hermione. I know you can. Do you believe me?"

She looked away and he could see the moisture in her eyes. She wasn't just afraid. The girl before him was absolutely terrified...with good reason. If they tried this and failed, they would be punished severely. Far worse than anything they've known so far.

Though it seemed unimaginable, he didn't doubt that they'd find a way to make it even worse. What Ron feared the most was that he would be killed for it. Not because he was afraid to die - he was, but that wasn't what he worried about - it was because he couldn't leave her alone there…again. He just couldn't bear to think about it.

"Hermione?" he lowered his head to catch her eyes.

Once he did she followed him as he raised his head and again spoke.

"You can do this."

He nodded and she mimicked him. Ron let out a breath in a slow sigh. He recalled some advice Hermione herself had told him a lifetime ago.

_"Knowing spells and technique only go so far. You need focus, Ron. If you're emotional, you'll be sloppy."_

She was right, of course. She always was.

Evidence of it was his attempt in the woods that resulted in his capture. His emotions were everywhere and his spells had been the same. Of course, if he'd been on target he may never have learned Hermione was in fact alive in more than just his mind. And he heard all sorts of horror stories about using the Killing Curse successfully. It changes you; the darkness of taking a life, whether a good or bad one, tainted you.

He held no doubt that she could do what needed to be done, but with her so obviously nervous and afraid, there was an even greater chance that things wouldn't go as well as they needed them to. All she had to do was get the wand to him and he'd do his best, his absolute best, to get them the hell out of there.

He carefully reached a hand for hers. When he covered it, he felt her initial reaction. Tensing right away, but after a few heartbeats it relaxed a bit while she looked into his eyes.

"Can you do it?" he asked. She nodded shakily and he then requested. "Say it."

He waited a moment while she worried her bottom lip before speaking again. Slowly enunciating the short words.

"Can you?"

The hoarse whisper reached his ears after a moment.

"Can."

* * *

The dark haired woman looked on at the most recent arrival to the manor. She crossed her arms and let her eyes flick over to where her sister was having a discussion with her husband. By the looks of it, it wasn't a pleasant one.

She suppressed a roll of her eyes. Her sister's sympathies were beginning to really get to her. Her and her family deserved to be cast out by the Dark Lord and punished horribly. What had they actually accomplished for furthering his quest?

They were a mass of failures.

"Bellatrix." the harsh voice brought her focus back to her intended conversation. "You've come with good news, I hope."

"That depends on the outcome." she informed him. "The Dark Lord is charging you with a test."

"What sort of test?" he asked.

"Our lord has generously consented to grant your request for the mudblood today."

The wolfman ran his tongue across his teeth in anticipation.

"What's the test?" he asked.

"To refrain from killing it." she stated. "He'll give you this chance to prove your dedication to his will is stronger than the animal. However, he understands you're barely yourself more than a beast. He only allows this because if you fail, we've the Weasley to use in her place."

"The Dark Lord is very generous." he agreed. Barely able to keep the animal in him at bay at the thought of finally getting what he'd been asking for months. He wondered how he could possibly keep control when the moment was tangible and in front of him. Then again, as she had said, they still had the ginger.

"He is." Bellatrix concurred then darkened her tone. "But I warn you now; I'm not pleased to be sharing my things especially with an animal."

He snarled at this but she continued.

"If you kill what's mine to kill, I'll have you in its place at the end of my wand."

Snape snapped into the property, not looking forward to the upcoming gathering. He didn't care to witness the sick display again. He would be unable to offer any assistance today; just a spectator who was supposed to enjoy the scene. Supposed to be impressed that a grown man with insurmountable powers could overtake a child practically forced to the brink of madness. He did not and was not.

On occasion he was able to offer a believable reason for needing to be elsewhere while it happened. But it wasn't the case today.

He cast his eyes to the side and saw Bellatrix speaking with Fenrir across the room and his stomach contracted at the delighted look on the wolf's face. Disgust and abhorrence raising within him, though his face gave nothing away. He had an awful feeling that he knew what words the deranged woman could offer to get such a response from the wolf.

He prayed silently for some miracle to intervene on behalf of his former student who was undeserving of such a fate. Perhaps the Dark Lord would end the games and simply kill her. Morbid, yes, but it would be a far better situation for the young girl than her current and future one.

More and more Death Eaters appeared and Snape saw Bellatrix leave and noticed that Lucius had sent Narcissa out of the room. Two bright flashing clues that it was almost time. The Dark Lord would soon arrive and it would begin.

* * *

"Good." Ron told her after she mimicked the action he showed her; gripping the air, as if something was in their hold and moving their arms in a motion that simulated tossing that imaginary something.

He nodded for her and she did the same. He wondered if she could see his nerves as he could see hers. He hoped not. After a silent moment, he licked his lips and began speaking again...just in case it was the last time…just in case it didn't work and he never had another chance.

"Listen, 'Mione..." he started and cleared his throat. "There's something...I have to tell you something."

She looked over at him with a true focus that said she only had what he had to say on her mind.

"I, um, I didn't want to tell you here. You know, I thought it was something that should wait until we were out or you were a little better. I just, I, I wanted you to completely understand it when-when I did tell you. But..."

He didn't want to place a seed of doubt in her mind by mentioning they might not have another chance to have the conversation.

"But I don't want to wait anymore. I think it's important for you to hear, because I should have let you hear it a hundred times by now." he cleared his throat again and looked into her deep eyes. "See the thing is, I ... I love you, Hermione."

He paused, half of him somehow expecting for her to respond. To tell him to sod off or that he was like her brother as he'd often feared her reaction would be when he told her how he felt. Or even his most fantasized scenario: for her to say it back to him. But instead she only gazed at him, her eyes looking into him as deep as he'd always felt she could. He shrugged and stammered.

"At least I, I think it's love. I'm pretty sure it is. I mean, I've thought about it for a long time now." he rambled. "I'm sorry I waited so long to say it. I should have said it right away. I should have told you every day because...because you were perfect every day. You deserved to hear it every day."

He looked away from her powerful eyes and said one more thing.

"No matter what happens today or whenever...just know that." he swallowed and said it again. "I love you."

After a moment without a sound, he blinked against tears and decided to risk a glance at her. As he took a breath and braced himself, he felt a familiar pressure amidst his hair and a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He raised his head to her and saw her looking at him, her eyes a kaleidoscope of so many things; even if they continued to lack those sparks and flashes he remembered seeing in there.

Something from her eyes filled him with a wordless answer and she stroked her thumb lightly among his shagging hair. He didn't know if her mind understood what he was trying to say, but he could see that her heart did.

He held his breath, noticing she was moving closer and still closer slowly. Her eyes again, always searching for assurance she wasn't making a mistake she'd be punished for. She cautiously closed the space between them until there was barely any air separating their bodies. Hermione then paused a moment before connecting her chest to his and her chin on his shoulder.

The hug was stiff and awkward, but Ron carefully lifted his arms to lightly lay his hands on her back in the embrace.

He felt his heart - or was it hers? - beat a few times and then he could feel her back relaxing beneath his touch. It spread throughout her slowly. He heard her breath near his ear and then her own hands moved tentatively, now against his back as he had done on hers. They were there only a moment before they slid so they were wrapped as around him as much she could and he did the same, encompassing her in his arms. Finally her head moved so her cheek was on his shoulder and her face turned towards his neck.

The contact, now a true embrace, was as good an answer as Ron could ever have asked for.

He held her and she held him.

He closed his eyes, she smelt of dirt and filth, sweat and blood, but there was something else among it all. A smell that he couldn't name; a scent that was strictly Hermione. Ron first noticed it during third year when she'd unknowingly leaned on his shoulder while asleep on the train.

Holding her like this, he felt as if his breath had been stolen and given back to him all at once. Ron felt like a living contradiction of sense. His body was on fire yet perfectly content. It was true that they'd hugged before. It was always quick; always out of excitement or adrenaline after escaping death or overcoming some other awful obstacle. A display of relief and joy to see that their friend was still alive and well.

It had never been like this. It was never this…much. He'd never held her so closely; never felt her breathing in small shudders on his neck. The intimacy, the meaning of this embrace was something so monumental…so vastly beyond what their young lives should know at this point. He prayed that it was not the last time he held her in such a way.

The intimate bubble around them shook at the loud sound Bellatrix purposely made coming toward their cell in the dungeon. He could hear her voice tauntingly calling out for "Muddy."

He knew Hermione heard it too for she tightened her arms around him and he even heard her voice whisper against him.

"Ron."

He tightened his hold on her small body and answered quiet yet firmly.

"It's ok." he told her and they pulled apart. He slid a matted clump of curls away from her face. "You'll be ok. We'll get out."

She gave her head a few quick nods up and down; Ron returned with his mirrored movement and moved back across the space. The air feeling colder than usual now that he was no longer holding her against him. He hoped it would appear she was still distrustful of his presence, so of course they would not be very close to one another, let alone planning anything.

The door opened then and Ron was somewhat glad to see Hermione acting as she always had when it did. Though he hoped it wasn't completely true when she hid her face and pressed herself against the corner. He hoped there was a portion of it that was just an act for the betterment of their plan. However, he knew better than to think she'd be completely calm with Bellatrix before them. All the practice and preparation in the world would never be equivalent to the real situation. Just as DADA didn't prepare them 100% for fighting dark magic in real life.

Bellatrix smirked at the scene and then looked to Ron and her eye twinkled.

"No funny games this time?" she asked, knowing of her brother-in-laws last visit and what he'd done as punishment. A lesson needed was taught.

Ron looked down and shook his head.

"That's unfortunate." she replied, looking again to Hermione, who faced the floor, and grinning. "I do love games."

She kicked her boot, hitting the girl's shin just enough to get her attention. Hermione jerked at the impact and Bellatrix squatted down in front of her and Ron felt the familiarity of the scene playing out before him. When she didn't reveal her face to look at the dark witch, Ron worried that he'd asked too much too soon from her.

"Do you know what day it is?" Bellatrix asked patronizingly.

Hermione still kept her face down behind her arms and did not answer. Bellatrix flapped her wrist, letting her palm slap over the top of Hermione's head to get the girl to look up. When she finally did, with her eyes wet and skittish, the Death Eater spoke again.

"Do you know...what today is?" she asked a second time, and then at the lack of response continued. "No, I suppose you don't. Stupid mudblood."

Then, just as last time, Bellatrix revealed the wand Ron knew as Hermione's. His friend visibly tensed and he could see her arm and legs shaking. Bellatrix smirked, always enjoying the reaction.

"Take it." she commanded, just as she'd done before.

Hermione's nervous eyes went from the stick over to him. Bellatrix saw and with her free hand gripped the girl's chin and forced her to look in front of her.

"What you looking at him for?" she asked tauntingly. "He's not going to help. Are you?"

Ron saw the woman look at him and he forced himself to shake his head.

"There, see?" Bellatrix went back to the muggleborn girl. "He's learning. Now...take it."

She released the teenager's face and Hermione flicked her eyes back to Ron for a brief second before going back to the magical weapon before her. She raised an extremely shaking hand and hesitantly touched it. A tear falling as she felt the smooth wood, nothing good ever happened when she had it. She swallowed and closed her hand around it, fearfully looking at the Death Eater when she did.

Bellatrix grinned and let go of it.

"So you're learning too." she noted, this being the first time she had taken the wand of her own volition. "Pity, it was so much fun the other way."

Bellatrix then rose to her feet, grabbing Hermione's wrist and brining her up as well. This made Ron realize a bump in his plan he'd somehow not thought of. Her unsteady legs were barely used properly in months. He hadn't seen her voluntarily stand on her own since he'd arrived. It was only when she was forced by another that she did and it was hardly stable.

The older witch pulled her up and he could see the strain her legs appeared to be under, quivering just to support her own weight. And he expected her to run for her life with him? He silently cursed. Now he worried this was a bad idea. That she wouldn't be able to keep up with the pace he had in mind of running like hell and they would be overtaken and punished.

Ron slowly rose now on his side of the wall, waiting for her to do what they planned. Just toss it to him. Toss the wand to him.

Come on.

Her body fell aside to lean on the wall, the action causing her wrist to slip from the Death Eater's hand. Bellatrix turned annoyed, intent to retrieve her more forcefully. But stopped the second she turned and saw her.

Ron's heart jumped into his throat. Hermione was leaning, braced on the wall, a quivering hand holding the wand with a white knuckled grip staring at it. Bellatrix's eyes twinkled with amusement and a short laugh escaped her.

She looked at her with a smirk as she stared at the wood shaking in her hand.

"Oh...You want to curse me?" she asked amused, then laughed again. "You do! Very well, go ahead give it a go, but the Dark Lord won't like being kept waiting. When I explain what took so long, he certainly will give you the deserved reward."

The heavy lidded woman held her arms out, giving the girl a clear shot at her chest. Ron didn't like this. He didn't like it at all; he just wanted her to get the wand to him. She had to before the opportunity was gone. Mentally screaming for Hermione to take her chance when she looked at him then back to the waiting witch. Her sweating palm tightened around the wand, Bellatrix put her hands back down and began a step forward.

"Alright, now that the foolishness-" she began to say, but halted at Hermione's actions.

The girl's sweaty palm loosened around the wand as she faced Ron and threw it underhanded in his direction. Ron's heart stopped watching the stick head towards him. His eyes focused solely on it as it came to him and he prepared to catch it. She did it. It was going to work.

He reached up and caught it.

The sensation of victory lasted only a moment before a new one took its place. As soon as he held the wand, he'd felt the blast of pain knock him back and it was lost to him.

Bellatrix's eyes were glaring at him behind the wand she held out; her own wand. She shot daggers at him and then turned back to the girl.

"So you have been learning." she stated with an ominous whisper, taking a step closer. Hermione pressed back into the wall horrified.

Bellatrix stepped closer and without another moment of pause, shoved her. The Death Eater then turned to face Ron, not caring enough to wait until the girl hit the floor with the thud.

"And I wonder who's been teaching the star student." She taunted taking a step towards the redhead.

Ron pressed his hands to the ground attempting to rise, but felt himself fly back once again and hit the wall, gravity carrying him to the ground without grace. The wire haired woman looked to the girl scurrying backward on the floor, heading towards her corner and not looking away from the angered witch.

"That's how it's done, mudblood." Bellatrix stated directly. "What else would you like to learn?"

Hermione shook her head violently, but Bellatrix had already turned back around to Ron. He was just catching his breath again when he saw her standing above him. Bellatrix said nothing at first, planting a boot on his chest to keep him down while she picked up Hermione's wand one again.

"You've brought this on yourselves, the both of you." she told him as he panted beneath her.

"Leave her alone." he ordered. She bent her torso slightly over him and told him.

"She's going to scream." she promised him. "And it'll be because of you. But pity you won't be around to enjoy it."

Ron saw her pull the wand back behind her head and knew this was it. His final failure would cost him his life and Hermione anything that was left of her. He hoped it wouldn't hurt too much, though he deserved it. He held his breath and braced himself, wrenching his eyes shut tightly. Her arm began the slash forward but he never heard the curse or felt its impact.

Instead a scream filled the air and a bright jet slammed into Bellatrix, sending her body flying off and away from him. Hitting the floor with a terribly sick thud and crack.

Ron coughed as her weight left his chest and scrambled, powered by fear induced adrenaline, over to the fallen witch. Panting, he grabbed both wands from the floor near her and quickly took stumbling steps back away from the body so as not to be taken by surprise.

He watched her a breath, trying to get his breathing under control and wiped his sleeve across his forehead, looking at the bloody body then quickly turned and rushed to Hermione.

Sitting with her head down, knees against her chest and arms up, shaking violently. Her hands were open in front of her, facing him showing the red blistered skin on her palms. Ron glanced over his shoulder, realizing they were facing the exact spot he and Bellatrix had been. Her burnt hands seemed to be the source of the jet that saved his life.

"How..." he trailed off breathing heavily then deciding to spend time wondering about it later.

"Come on, Hermione." he suggested.

He put his hand under her arm and ushered her up, supporting her weight.

"You did it." he told her, hoping it would calm her a bit.

He kept a solid grip on her, putting the extra wand in the waist of his pants. Ron held on to Hermione with one arm, while his other hand held her wand out in front of them. He peered out into the hall cautiously and saw the coast was clear.

"Let's go."

xx

xx

* * *

xx

xx


	15. Play Crack The Sky

**A/N: Yay for everyone's response! I'm seriously loving you guys a million times over. So here's what you're waiting for! Let's see how the attempt goes! Will they make it out? I don't know…I DO KNOW!**

**Alrighty, I'm done. Here you go. Shorter than others, for which i say my sorries. But I liked ending it where I ended it.**

**P.S. Amazing Song! Check it out if you never have before.**

* * *

"_We sent out the SOS call. It was a quarter past four in the morning when the storm broke" _

–'_Play Crack The Sky'_ by Brand New

* * *

Ron held his arm tightly around Hermione's waist, holding her near him and supporting her weight as needed. His other hand extended before them with her wand, ready for anyone they may come across before they had the chance to disappear from the awful place. He felt her holding on to him as well, doing her best to keep upright and keep moving.

He could tell she wasn't able to do so, on her own, but felt no burden in helping her along. It wasn't simply because her thin body was nearly weightless in his hold. It was because she would never be his burden; he would carry her for the entirety of his life and never consider it as such. Everything he was doing now was for her, for both of them.

The dungeon corridors were candlelit and lined with other rooms that looked similar to the one they'd been kept in. Something in Ron suggested he look in them for other survivors, but he forced himself to keep it away with a silent apology to any who may be there. He'd love to help, but his only priority was getting Hermione out of there safely. Awful as he'd probably feel later on while looking back on it, he simply couldn't bring himself to spare what precious time they had. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would soon wonder why his beloved Bellatrix had not yet returned with her prisoner in tow.

He moved forward following the instructions on how to get out of the dungeons Narcissa had given him. Next to him, Hermione stumbled a few times on unsteady underused legs. He only tightened his hold on her and spoke assurances that they were almost there. He didn't have to be anywhere specific to disappear from the horrid place. As long as they were out of the dungeon, the very second they stood outside the door they were gone.

Almost free.

"I've got you." he told her, breathing heavy as adrenaline coursed through his body and compensating for the strength she lacked. He could feel her gripping his shoulder, her attempt to help him support her emaciated body. Ron looked ahead and saw, as he'd been told to expect, the stairs that would lead them up and out.

"Look." he told her, facing the girl and gesturing his armed hand for her to see. "Just up there, see? So close, Hermione. We're almost out."

She nodded, looking at the stairs and letting him guide her ahead toward them. One by one, Ron's strong hold helped her ascend as quickly as possible. About halfway up, a new light filled the steps and the two looked up as the door was opened.

Ron moved her behind him as best he could on the steps and held the wand out in order to fight for their survival as it seemed he would need to. The redhead looked up into the face of his schoolmate and heir to the estate that had imprisoned them. Draco met his eyes and froze in the doorway. They stared at each other for what felt a long moment, neither saying a word.

"Draco!" a sharp voice called from somewhere behind him; the voice recognizable as the young man's father. "Do you see her?"

Draco didn't blink at his father's words, continuing to gaze upon the two in silence. Witnessing the way Weasley protectively stood in front of Granger...what had become of her, anyway. He wasn't sure exactly why he hadn't shouted out right away, or even pulled his own wand out to apprehend them and finally be more than an errand boy punch line to the Death Eaters. But something gave him pause.

Perhaps it was exhaustion. He was tired of the gloom that had taken residence in his house for over a year now. It was no longer the carefree life it had been for him. Back when the worst he'd ever done was toss insults and knock around some students here and there. Back when his future as a Death Eater seemed a golden prize he couldn't wait to receive. It wasn't the glamorous world his mind had built it up to be.

He looked over his shoulder where they all were waiting down the hall in the grand room they always met in. Where the Dark Lord himself was waiting. There would be consequences if this happened. Severe ones, no doubt.

His silver eyes returned to the blues midway up the stairs. As if he could hear the debate in Draco's head, Ron gave his own head a shake left and right, pleading the Slytherin keep his mouth shut about the discovery.

Making up his mind, Draco thought only of his family's safety as he raised his voice.

"They're escaping!" he shouted, simultaneously reaching for his wand.

Ron reacted first, sending the other boy flying before he could reveal his weapon. Draco flew out of the doorway and Ron knew what little time they had, was now virtually non-existent. He pulled firmly on Hermione's hand, needing to move now quicker than they had yet.

"Come on!" he stated loudly. Draco's announcement and the ruckus of the spell eliminated the hopes of a quiet getaway.

The redhead almost dragging her up the stairs, mentally apologizing for it when he heard a few grunts come from her as she stumbled her way along, but having no choice, they made it to the top without grace. Hermione fell to her knees upon reaching the ground level but didn't remain long. Ron pulled her up once again as quick footsteps could be heard entering the hall. A large crashing sound rattled the floor beneath their feet, coming from that same direction.

* * *

In the grand room where all were gathered in the Dark Lord's presence waiting, the young Malfoy's voice had flown through the air and his father's eyes went immediately to the red ones of his leader. Connecting in panic for barely a second, Lucius then fled in a fury from the room toward the dungeon. The serpent-like man growled angrily and ordered to all in the room,

"Get them!"

Clearly they had found a way to best his most trusted and darkly talented follower. They could very well squirrel away from Lucius.

In the crowd, Snape moved quickly with the mass tidal of black cloaks. As the first of them began across the room, he cast his sharp eyes upwards and spoke in a quick breath audible to no one. The second his lips stopped moving the great chandelier above came plummeting onto the floor. Hitting some and halting the rest at least for the time it would take to get through and around the damage it caused.

Keeping his response to the occurrence similar to those around him, Severus silently hoped it was enough of a window for them to complete their escape attempt.

* * *

Ron didn't want to spare time to wonder what it was or what caused it. All he noted was the footsteps had paused only briefly and were now getting closer, faster. He held Hermione close as he could, preparing for the dizzying process. He hoped she - and her body - would be able to handle it. He knew from too many personal experiences it wasn't a pleasant feeling and could range from uncomfortable to straight-out painful. Not to mention the possibility of landing at your destination missing pieces of yourself. Encompassing her in his arms, he looked in her eyes and spoke.

"This may hurt." he told her with regret in the statement. "Just hold on to me, no matter what."

She nodded feverishly and pulled her body closer to his, scrunching her eyes shut while Ron put all his focus into their destination. Just as Lucius Malfoy rounded the corner and got a full view of them, he held his breath and did it. Vanishing both of them far away from Malfoy Manor.

The world spun and twirled as the familiar compressing feeling threatened to overwhelm his tired mind and body.

Ron kept his wits about him by focusing on his arms and the feeling of the girl held within them. He could feel the rock-hard tension of her body and knew all that could be done was to hold on until it was over. After what seemed like an eternity of the suffocating feeling, Ron's knees rattled at the heavy impact his feet made with solid ground.

He grunted at the force of his weight hitting the ground and couldn't help but tumble, his body rolling on the grass until he was on his back looking up at the star filled sky. He hadn't realized how late it was. He remained a brief moment as he was, catching his breath and marveling at the feel and smell of fresh air. It was so pure he could almost choke on it.

He turned himself over with a groan from his aching body; from where he was he could hear the waves of the oceans and knew the beach wasn't far off. So far everything pointed to him being in the right place. He crawled to where Hermione lay in a similar position as he had. He saw with disappointment that he had been right; the trip had indeed been too much for her. He checked her over as she lay unconscious in the grass. She wasn't missing any body parts, a good sign. Regardless of that, Ron knew she needed real medicinal magics, not just the superficial treatment that only healed enough to ensure death wouldn't come just yet.

She was by no means healthy.

Looking upon her still face, Ron prayed it was only the moonlight that put the sickly white pale in her features. The glow of it gave more light than had been available to them while he saw her in that prison. Under the mass of it, she now appeared to be even thinner than he thought and her sunken eyes ringed with a purple hue mixed with her absolute stillness gave her the true look of the dead.

This observation shook his core and suddenly he needed to witness proof of life. He needed to see her eyes and hear her words and feel her heart beating with his. He cupped his palm against her cheek, noticing his own hand appeared also to be paler than his normal fair pigment, and began to softly pat her face.

"Hermione." he spoke, urging her to wake.

Nothing.

And when he tried again, still nothing. He felt the fearful panic of helplessness build in his chest. But he remembered quickly that they were no longer in the awful dungeon of Malfoy's and he wasn't helpless...not entirely.

Sliding his arms under her knees and back, Ron lifted her small body. Mentally noting how easy it was to do so for how very light she felt in his arms. He adjusted himself once, her head rolling to lie against his chest. Ron looked up ahead of them to the house not far away. The lights were all off in the small cottage and he felt only a passing moment of guilt knowing he'd soon be waking his brother and sister-in-law from what was surely much needed sleep during these troubled days. But Hermione mattered more.

So Ron took careful steps in the moonlit landscape toward the cozy house, doing all he could not to jostle the girl in his arms and possibly exacerbate any injuries. He whispered comforting words, just in case she heard him and some for himself as well, and soon he was at the front door. Not having a free hand to knock politely, Ron again adjusted her in his arms and kicked the door twice making resounding bangs in the stillness of the night. Light immediately came on in the upstairs window as the house sprang to life.

After a moment, the door was pulled back and Ron found himself at the end of his brother's wand. Shock filled Bill's features as he saw who his late night visitor was. Ron said nothing in way of greeting. Instead he curled his hands around Hermione a bit more and spoke in a near broken voice.

"Help."

x

x

* * *

x

x


	16. The Archers Bows Have Broken

**A/N: Fun fact, I'm doing this instead of writing a paper that's due in two days! Funniest part is that no in the lounge here can tell…all they know is I'm looking all concentrated at my Dennis (my laptop's name) and my fingers are going type type typety type. TeeHee…**

**There was something else…oh yeah, just a little thing…**

**REACHED 100 REVIEWS! HELLS YEAH! FAN-FRAKKING-TASTIC! EVERYBODY GETS HUMPBACK WHALES!**

**Seriously, Thank you all for all the love and criticism you've given me and this little work of mine. I live off feedback like a junkie on a needle and you guys are my dealers!**

**A very specific shout out to Number 100, as promised! I'm talkin to you LittleMissLoony! **

**Alrighty! Let's keep the momentum going here. We've got important stuff going on, so let's get it going! And Yes, I used Brand New again, I've been listening them while I type this and I love these lyrics…oh my heart.**

**Final note and then I promise I'll leave you alone! This is my first attempt at writing out "Fleur-talk" and while it kills me to actually approve something with so many red and green squiggles on it, I make that sacrifice because I love this world so damn much.**

* * *

"_What did you learn tonight? You're shouting so loud, you barely joyous, broken thing." _

_-'The Archers Bows Have Broken'_ by Brand New

* * *

Ron forced his way over the threshold; ignoring his brother's shocked expression as he stepped aside. Bill watched his youngest brother enter his house, looking all levels of exhausted, carrying the girl in his arms. He was far too shocked to believe any of it was real.

Ron looked around upon entering; searching for something though Bill didn't know what. The undiluted shock finally broke and he was able to voice his confusion.

"Ron?" he asked, feeling as if he were very far behind in a long, long story.

He closed the front door and walked and walked over to him.

"What's ..." he cut off his question once Ron turned back around and met him with desperate eyes.

"She needs help." he told his brother right off without giving a chance for anything else to be discussed.

His statement forcing Bill out of his curiosity and casting his eyes down to the limp form he held in his arms for the first time. His eyes widened, first because of the poor sight of her, second as the realization came that this was someone he knew.

"Hermione?" he spoke; half question, half statement. Recalling Ron's desperate plea, he gestured to the stairs. He snapped to focus and finally recognized the urgency of the moment. "The guest room, the one you stayed in."

Bill then disappeared to the master bedroom and Ron went where he was instructed.

In the room he'd stayed very briefly (a single night) when he'd left his two best friends, Ron carefully set Hermione down on the bed and slid his arms out from under her. As soon as she was there, he immediately sat beside her. Moving a matted bit of hair from her gaunt face, he sighed. His own exhausted body demanding rest. Even as he felt himself attempt to shut down, Ron knew undoubtedly that he would not allow it until he knew she was alright.

"We did it, Hermione." he half whispered to her. "Just like I promised."

A small twitch of her brow came disrupted her otherwise still face in response and Ron thought it meant she was either coming around or she was listening to him. Acknowledging that she'd heard his message. Just that moment, his sister-in-law entered the room in a flurry, Bill right behind her. She wore a robe haphazardly thrown on and her hair hung down around her, tell-tale signs of being startled from bed.

"Mon dieu!" she breathed with a small gasp getting Ron to turn. He stood immediately; ready to beg her for help. Fleur wasn't a healer exactly, but she knew a fair amount more than almost anyone else Ron knew; certainly anyone he could go to right now.

He couldn't be sure if her response was attributed to their arrival in general, or how they looked. Dirty, worn and torn.

"What 'appened?" she asked her thickly accented voice heavy with concern as she came at him.

Ron didn't know how to answer. He didn't know how to explain the conditions they were in without saying something about what they were doing. Nor, he realized did he know what answer Harry gave them to explain his own sudden appearance without either of his friends; then again, how was he to know that Harry had even made it there at all?

"She needs help." was his only answer, repeating what he'd said to her husband.

Fleur had already moved to begin to look her over.

Whispering and muttering to herself in French. Every so often, as he tried to follow, Ron heard her mention a potion he recognized. A hand came on Ron's upper arm, he spun around and swatted it away from contact; his instincts ordered him to fight off whoever it was. But it was Bill, a fact he felt he should have clearly expected as his brother pulled him back into the doorway.

As he felt himself be more or less dragged away from her side, Ron kept his eyes on the bed.

"Ron." The older Weasley began, but his brother kept his eyes in the bedroom. He said it a little harsher for his attention. "Ron!"

He then turned to Bill, who began in a quiet voice.

"Ron, what's happened to you two?" he asked, both concerned and demanding.

Ron opened his mouth but promptly shut it again. Still unsure what he would say. He glanced back in the room. Until he heard Bill ask another question.

"Does it have something to do with Harry showing up here?" he asked, Ron snapped his eyes back to him. Harry? Harry had come; he'd made it. Bill continued at his silence. "He said you were coming, but that was weeks ago. He was certain you'd be here a lot sooner."

Ron felt a pang in his heart for his best friend. Forced to believe he'd lost two more people so close to him. He was sure to feel as if it were somehow his fault.

Ridiculous.

Ron knew he got caught because of his own choice. His blinding rage and heartache driving him for revenge.

"What else did Harry say?" Ron asked wondering how much Bill already knew.

At this question, Bill glanced momentarily into the room as well then turned himself and his brother away. With their backs to the open door and the two women inside, Bill said in a voice even quieter.

"When I asked if Hermione would be with you, he said no. He said…he told us she was gone, Ron, for being muggleborn." he paused, feeling his brother's anger tense the air around him. "Why would he say that?"

"Because we thought it was true." he answered, remembering with a still lit flame in his gut the argument in which Ron begged Harry to consider it could be a trick.

"Who's with him?" Ron asked; suddenly remembering hearing the news that someone was helping Harry. "Was he alone when he left?"

"No." Bill answered his question although he still had plenty of his own he needed to ask. "Remus came by not long ago to tell us about Teddy, and he left with Harry."

"Teddy?" Ron asked confused, but before he gave him a chance to answer, he remembered that the world had continued without the trio there to see it and within the world had been a specific detail that was a piece of rare joyous news amongst the darkness. "Tonks has had the baby, then?"

Bill gave a small smile and nodded.

"Ron, what-"

Bill's next question, whatever it was, cut off before it could really start. Both red heads twisted around, a pained moan entered the air of the bedroom, floating out into the hall for them to hear. Ron immediately entered again and went straight to the bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked Fleur, wrought with yet another wave of concern for the girl he loved.

"I don't know." she replied flustered while trying to keep calm and focused.

Fleur then spoke across the room to her husband, telling him to retrieve more bandages and certain base healing potions and salves from their supply. Average things every wizarding home had: for pain, cuts, bruises...She'd have to make more complex ones should they be required.

"She eez fevered." she informed Ron. "Wet a towel from zee bath."

Ron nodded roughly and ran to do as he was told, happy to have something he could help with, no matter how small it seemed. He quickly grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in cool water, running back in the room just as Bill once again left for whatever reason he had.

He came to the mattress and patted the cool cloth to her forehead, wondering to himself how long her sickness had been growing in that awful hole they'd been in. Wondered if he'd have been able to do anything to help her if he'd been able to notice it sooner. When you can't really touch someone, or see them that well for that matter, it's isn't exactly easy to recognize it.

"Ron." the woman's voice requested his attention again. "I 'ave to see zee rest...under 'er clothes. I was trying to when you 'eard 'er."

Ron nodded in understanding though greatly reluctant to leave her side for more than a moment. He wanted to be here with her.

What if she woke while he was gone?

She'd see Fleur and Fleur alone in unfamiliar surroundings. He hadn't had time to explain...anything. Let alone the fragile mental state. If he did, surely they wouldn't ask him to leave her. She knew him. He could keep her calm if she began to panic. At least he was confident he could.

But out of respect for Hermione, the kind instilled in him by his parents, the kind she hadn't been given in months, Ron forced himself to nod and walk away.

He entered the hall, pulling the door closed most of the way behind him but keeping it a bit cracked to hear.

In the room, Fleur went about doing as she needed. As soon as she began to remove what was left of the tattered shirt, the still body seemed to come to life.

Fleur gasped in surprise when Hermione jerked, her back arching upward making the French witch take a step back. She moaned a moment before letting her body fall back to the blue blanket she lay on. Quick breaths moved frantically in and out of her chest and her hands held fistfuls of the blanket as more sounds escaped her.

Fleur could only let the display lead her to the fact that she was in pain. A great deal by the reaction; enough to reach her in her slumbering state. Ron suddenly reappeared at the bedside. Kneeling beside it, he put a hand over hers, letting the other stroke her forehead with the forgotten towel, speaking soft words of comfort to her.

The woman was grateful, admiring his clear devotion for the girl. Her eyes then registered an area on Hermione's shirt darker than the rest. A stain that wasn't dirt. She lightly touched her fingers to it, the girl whimpered, crying when the smallest of pressure grazed the spot on her stomach. It wasn't very wet, so it wasn't fresh or perhaps whatever wound lay there wasn't bleeding profusely.

Hermione's breath hitched when Fleur tried again to remove the clothing and this time the woman knew why. She pictured in her mind the fibers of the shirt clinging to the semi healed, wound painfully stuck. She greatly sympathized the poor girl; whatever she'd been through was obviously something awful.

Ron watched Hermione's eyes begin to pull apart and her throat swallow heavily. Her orbs glazed over with fever and pain, Ron tried to catch her gaze. Eyes stared up at the ceiling without really looking at it. Ron curved his fingers around her hand and spoke her name.

"Hermione." he repeated it until he got her attention. Without turning her head, she cast her eyes to him. After a moment, a bit of the fog over her gaze seemed to leave and he thought for sure she really saw him.

"Hey." he greeted a smile on his face as tears owned his eyes. "It's me. It's me. We're safe now. You're safe."

He kept his eyes on hers, locking their gazes to keep her focus solely on him. Her head turned slightly toward him and he cupped her cheek, stroking her hot skin with his thumb. He heard Fleur speak as she pointed her wand at the distressing area.

Hermione's face contorted with a short cry, surprised, as a spray of water came from the wand. Ron could see what Fleur was doing. Hoping to make it less a trial to remove the fabric from the half healed, partially reopened laceration, she attempted to ease it off by wetting the fabric that clung to her. However clever he may have thought the idea, it didn't appear to be helping at all; it had been too long on the road of attempting to heal around the cloth.

He focused on Hermione, trying to keep her calm; trying to comfort her in her fear and pain. Her eyes travelled wildly around, not recognizing anything, not knowing what was going on.

He barely heard the foreign whisper from the other side of the bed.

"Veuillez me pardoner."

Fleur stood straight and flicked the wand once, inciting a sharp jerk and a cry from Hermione before she fell still and limp again. Ron swallowed his heart back down and continued running the pad of his thumb on her cheek after she passed out. Fleur chose to use magic to vanish the clothing to remove it as quick as possible and stop prolonging the process.

Even then, she could see strands of material stuck still to the slowly bleeding area it had been ripped away from.

"Oh." she whispered in a breath and immediately began the process of healing she could offer.

Though he knew she was exposed now, Ron couldn't help but take his eyes away from her face for the first time and look to see what exactly caused the reaction. Several places across her torso were bruised and scarred. But he rose to his feet in order to see what it was that Fleur saw.

The wound her shirt stuck to stared nastily back at him. On the tender skin to the right her navel, angry ugly slashes had reopened somewhere along the way, or perhaps never properly closed to begin with.

Seeping crimson life, the cuts partnered with one another to make readable letters.

BL

Ron's furry made him dizzy and for the first time, he willingly left Hermione's side.

Running without grace, he stumbled to the nearest bathroom, falling to his knees over the toilet and heaving.

His stomach protested, screaming that he had nothing to expel, but it didn't stop the urge. Panting heavily, with tears on his face, Ron sat up and instantly felt the world tilt and twist around him. His body finally winning over what it was long demanding.

Everything went black.

_Ron's eyes opened and he saw the world at the horizontal angle he'd become accustomed to over the past weeks. The hard floor aggravated his aching body. He released a groan and pressed his hands against it, pushing him up and looking around. He was still in the bathroom where he'd fallen._

_The light was different now. He wondered how long he'd been out as he rose to his full height. His tongue heavy in his dry mouth, he went to the sink. Filling a curved hand with water and swishing it in his mouth a few moments before spitting it back into the bowl. Next he put his palms side by side, letting the cool water pool in them and splashing it over his face. His eyes cast a glance to the mirror above the sink. The person was hardly recognizable to his eyes._

_Dirt and bruises stained his skin, rough hairs stuck out over his jaw. He was a sight alright. _

_Turning off the water, he left the bathroom, nearly bumping into his brother as he entered the hall._

"_There you are!" Bill said with a tone of surprise upon seeing him. "I was wondering where you'd gone to."_

"_Yeah, I was…" he trailed off, slightly embarrassed to say he run away to throw up and subsequently pass out._

"_Never mind it." Bill told him without questioning him further. "Come down for breakfast. Fleur's made pancakes."_

_Ron was startled by the realization that they'd left him on the floor of the bathroom all night without rousing him or, for all he knew, without even looking for him. But he knew it was a pretty hectic group of hours. But he shook away those questions, a more important one screaming in his brain._

"_What about Hermione?" he asked and Bill nodded._

"_All taken care of."_

"_Yeah?" Ron asked with a breath of relief falling from him. Bill nodded his head once again._

"_Of course, mate. Have a look for yourself." He suggested to his brother. "She's right where you left her."_

_Ron smiled and sped to the room with long strides. The door to the guest room looked like an entrance to paradise. All he needed was just beyond it. Without pause, he pushed through as soon as he came to it._

"_Hermi-"the word and smile died away as if they'd never existed in the first place._

_The room he'd just walked into wasn't a bedroom in Shell Cottage. It wasn't a bedroom at all._

_The stone floors and walls were illuminated by candlelight, casting an ominous glow over everything. A dark haired figure in the center that had been facing away turned to him when he entered. His heart froze, looking once again into the black soulless eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange._

_She smirked at him._

"_There you are." She echoed his brother's words upon seeing him. The Death Eater stepped aside, revealing that which her body previously concealed from his eyes. _

_Hermione._

_Strung up in the same position he'd been several times only, he noticed, her restraints weren't the invisible ones that had been used on him. True, physical chains held her arms high above her head and elongating her body. Completely exposed, head hung low. He saw the fresh evidence of the tortures brought on her body._

_He wanted to run to her, but his feet remained stuck in place. Bellatrix approached him, holding out her knife to him, the blade already dripping crimson._

"_Want to play?" _

_His eyes saw on her stomach the brand new wound bleeding freely down her body through the initials of the sadistic woman. Branding her as if she were a piece of property._

_Her head lifted and she met his eyes. They recognized him right away._

"_Ron." Her voice was a strangled cry._

_It wasn't the voice he'd come to know in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. It was more present, and he knew exactly what it was. It was hers. Before her mind began slipping. This was the voice of the girl he'd known for years. The woman he'd helplessly fallen in love with._

"_Help me." She pleaded with him. "Ron, please."_

_Ron felt himself look her over before his body betrayed his heart and mind, and he turned away, walking towards the doorway._

"_Don't leave!" she cried for him. She begged desperately as he walked away. "Don't leave me here! Please!"_

_He pushed the door closed, hearing another desperate ear shattering scream before it shut completely._

"_RON!"_

He woke with a gasp and instantly sat up. He pressed his hands into his eyes, feeling the moisture coating his face that had fallen over his cheeks in his sleep.

A dream.

A nightmare.

He moved put his hands to the sides and was surprised at the soft surface he felt beneath them and him. He was in a bed. In one of the other rooms. The room was bright, the sun peering through a window. It stung; his sensitive eyes still trying to adjust to being in true light again. The night was over, just as it had been in his nightmare.

But he'd obviously been found where he'd passed out and brought there. He felt better…physically. Looking down at himself, he saw he was in fresh clothes and his skin free from remains of dirt and blood. Still residually sore, with a couple the worse bruises and cuts still in the process of healing, and a bandage wrapped around his hand and wrist; even with all that his body felt a hundred times better.

Ron swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose, swaying once with a light head. He needed to eat, but he knew that could wait and went swiftly to the door to exit. In the hall, he nearly crashed into his brother, another moment mirroring his horrid dream.

"Whoa!" Bill voiced. "Ron, you're-"

Ron didn't wait around to hear whatever he planned to say, too fearful of yet another similarity to the awful vision that plagued his sleep. He turned the direction he needed and moved as quickly as possible. Not that he realistically expected to find the scene from his dream behind the door, but he knew needed to see Hermione, regardless.

He needed to know she'd be alright.

Ron moved through the door into the room he'd fled from hours earlier. Daylight poured in from the two windows and his eyes went first and only to the bed. His feet carried him over to her. Unlike when he'd left her, she was now lying beneath the covers, rather than on top of it. He noticed her hair was cleaned and had been made shorter. Probably the best way to most efficiently rid it of the negative remnants of her stay. Rather than down her back, the now clean curls seemed to barely dance on her shoulders. Her face too was clean of almost all marks, just like his.

Still paler than usual, still too thin; but immensely better.

His eyes didn't leave her still face and the bed sank under his weight as he sat beside her hip. He wondered if she'd come around again while he was gone. If so, he sincerely hoped it wasn't overly frightening for her. Waking in a new place with people that were, for all intents and purposes, strangers. He watched her resting face; it held a peace he hadn't seen in a long time, making him believe she'd been given a bit of dreamless sleep somehow. That thought gave him an involuntary shiver as he pictured her being too scared and untrusting to accept something like that, and possibly having it forced past her lips.

No, he shook his head. They probably gave it while she was unconscious…she didn't even know it happened. That was better.

Ron ran his fingers through some of her hair, feeling it was in the process of returning to its pillow soft texture. He then released a sigh of relief when he brushed her forehead and no longer felt the blaring heat that had been there the night before, now it was just a bit warm.

"Her fever broke a few hours ago."

Ron leapt to his feet and spun when the voice started, ready to fight if he needed to. Ready to defend both of them against whomever it was. He figured he wouldn't take well to being surprised for quite a while after everything.

He hadn't looked anywhere but at her when he came in and therefore did not know anyone else was in the room.

Let alone that he was.

* * *

X

X

**A/N: So that was originally two separate chapters but I used my magical editing prowess to make it dos! Hope you like!**

X

X


	17. Sunlight Through The Flags

**A/N: So here we go with another bit o' this. Good guesses guys on who the visitor was, though I doubt it was anything other than obvious. I will say that one reviewers speculation gave me a spark of, "Oh why don't I do that?" but then realized, no need for I have a plan for everybody, including some ladies and gents that haven't been in the story yet.**

* * *

"_Worry not everything is sound, This is the safest place you've found." __-'The Lightning Strike (II) The Sunlight Through The Flags _by Snow Patrol

* * *

Ron's eyes were frozen to him.

Looking like he'd slept in the chair that he now stood from, the two stared at each other for a moment without words. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he took a step closer to Ron. As if he didn't know how to act, he waited a few seconds before adding:

"Bill finally forced Fleur to bed a bit ago." He informed him, unsure what else to say just yet. "I promised I'd get her when she woke up."

Ron didn't listen to a word he said. He couldn't get over the shock of seeing him again. He couldn't believe it. Sure, he'd told himself to keep up hope, but he doubted he'd ever truly see his best friend again.

"Harry?" he finally spoke voicing his disbelief and the boy seemed cautious but nodded in response.

Cautious? Of Ron?

The red head suddenly propelled himself forward, surprising his friend in a bear hug, even lifting him off the ground for a brief moment. They broke apart and Harry seemed to ease before him and smiled at Ron.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you again." Harry breathed out sincerely.

"Likewise, mate." Ron answered with a smile of his own.

They shared a quick laugh; simply because there was no way to justify the relief and emotion of seeing one another again with words. Harry then looked to the bed and Ron could visibly see him become a mix of guilt-ridden sadness and immense relief. Ron looked at their mutual friend as well.

"I thought my mind was playing tricks when Bill said her name." he admitted.

"It wasn't your mind playing the tricks." Ron stated darkly. "It was _him_."

"I'm sorry, Ron." Harry apologized, heavy with guilt while turning to him once again. "I…You told me not to believe it, that we should look for her and I didn't trust you – "

"Done is done, mate." He answered, somberly, not wanting to dwell on it. He wordlessly moved once again sit beside her while Harry approached the opposite side to stand. Ron didn't want to delve into it right now. Didn't want to think about how much she could've been spared if they'd done what Ron had demanded they do and go after her. There would've been a clue, something that would've brought them to her.

There was always a clue…but it was usually Hermione that found it.

"How are you here?" Ron asked, confused.

"Over heard some death eaters, talking about some people escaping." He explained. "After a few minutes, I figured out it was you they were talking about. This is where you told me to come, I knew you'd come as well. So we came as soon as we could."

Ron nodded after hearing this. He looked down at the sleeping girl once again and sighed as he saw a change come to her face. Her lips pressed tight together and her brow furrowed; the peaceful sleep she'd been having, that he so desperately wished for her seemed to be vanishing.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "After we separated that day?"

Ron swallowed and recalled the day that felt like years ago and yesterday at the same time. He cleared his throat.

"I got caught; took me to Malfoy Manor, to the dungeons." He answered, leaving out his blood thirsty attempt at the Unforgiveables.

Harry's eyes hardened.

"Malfoy?" he repeated and Ron nodded.

"Lucius Malfoy and…" he felt like spitting just saying her name. "Bellatrix were there."

"Did they…" he began asking, trailing off though the question was understood by Ron

"I'm alright." He answered waving his hand, not wanting to concern Harry with his experiences; especially when they paled in comparison to Hermione's. He looked back down to her as his voice trailed off. "But she…"

Ron had to pause while looking at her. He again analyzed the features of her face, as if triple checking she was real. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, as if afraid she would overhear him and it would exacerbate her worsening slumber.

"They did things to her." He answered vaguely. "They hurt her, starved her…You remember Godric's Hollow?"

Harry could only nod, fearing words may fail him. Of course he remembered. She saved his life that day and in return lost her own. Maybe in not in the literal sense of the word as he was once led to believe, but her life had been taken nonetheless.

"You-Know-Who…he came once a week and-and made her…"he forced the word out. "…duel him, to prove a muggleborn couldn't beat him."

"What?" Harry asked shocked. "She had to…him?"

"And afterwards…" he couldn't believe how hard it was to simply speak words. Words that felt like physical manifestations of pain and terror in his chest. "…some Death Eater could do whatever they wanted for a night. But she belonged to Bellatrix."

Harry looked at Hermione with a new, deeper expression of pain. He couldn't imagine anyone experiencing the horror Ron only vaguely described, let alone such a good person as she. He swallowed, his heart breaking with every word he heard, but at the same time, he needed to more.

"How'd you get away?" he asked.

"She beat Bellatrix, Hermione did, at her own game." Ron said, the other boy hearing the pride in his soft voice. Harry put a hand over hers and nodded.

"Of course she did." He stated feeling proud of her and Ron both.

God how me missed them.

It would so bad at times it caused his beating heart physical pain. There were times when he feared a descent into insanity, his quest dangerously teetering on the edge between a goal of victory and a simply mission of vengeance.

"You're out now." He spoke, possibly more for himself than for Ron. "You're both safe."

Safer he mentally corrected. Nowhere was truly safe for any of them anymore.

"There's something else." Ron began again, getting his attention then sighing. "She…You know, She was there all that time we thought she was …gone." Ron told him and Harry nodded, not needing to be reminded. "Months, Harry. With no one but them and the things they did every day. I mean it- it messes with you; with your head, even someone as smart as Hermione."

Harry regarded him now with worry. Fearful of what was about to be said to him.

"What I'm trying to say is she isn't…she's not like she was." He stated, but refusing to believe she'd never be herself again, quickly added. "Not yet."

Harry's expression paled and he looked to Ron for more information, but they were interrupted when movement on the mattress captured their focus. Their conversation halted, the two gave all attention to Hermione as she began to breathe quicker and clench her hands. After a movement, she moaned once and it appeared she was starting to come around. Ron held her hand tighter in anticipation, telling her it was ok. He wanted to ensure she knew he was there.

Her head moved to the side and another moan escaped her lips. He watched her eyes open and then immediately shut again. Closing them tightly, she turned her head away in the other direction with a tight mouthed whimper and raised a hand, palm out, above her face. It took Ron a moment to understand what was happening and he looked to Harry.

"The light." He stated, getting up and moving to the windows to a close. "They're too bright."

He recalled the way it stung his eyes when he'd first come to it, and that was after a much shorter time in the dark than she.

He returned to her as Hermione lowered her arm from shielding her sensitive eyes. She blinked several times, conjuring whatever clarity she could. Blinking still more, she began to take in her foreign surroundings.

She wasn't cold. The ground was soft.

She still hurt, but not exactly as she had.

This was somewhere new. Something new. What were they doing now?

The woman and the snake-man.

Her eyes moved. Someone was with her. She saw him close by. A man with hair like the shadows. His eyes stared and he reached towards her.

"Hermione." She flinched when he spoke the word only Ron said to her; despite the softness his disbelief gave his voice, and pressed into the pillow to keep from his touch. He didn't reach for her anymore, but he still watched.

Still too close.

A touch on her hand snapped her head and panicked eyes to her other side. She knew him.

Hermione clamped a hand on Ron's arm and pulled herself closer to him with a bit of protest from her body, keeping wary eyes on Harry who only looked on, struck by her response to him.

"Hermione." Harry tried again. "It's –"

His words halted when she voiced a noise of fear at his second attempt to come closer. She held as tight to Ron as she could manage, moving her not quite healed body in his direction. Her actions delivering to Ron an obvious message:

Help me. Protect me.

He wrapped his arm around her torso, holding her gently and promising to do just that even though he knew she needn't fear Harry. But what had she learned from her time in captivity? People wanted to hurt her.

Ron cast his blues up to The Boy Who Lived sympathetically, remembering when the look in his eyes was exactly what Ron held. When it was him she thought she had reason to fear; when it was him she didn't know or trust.

"I'll, um, I'll just tell the others she's awake." Harry thought aloud, trying and failing at hiding the feeling that came with his friend being so afraid of him.

Ron hated seeing the clear hurt in his eyes, but allowed Harry to leave with only an apologetic look.

Alone, he rubbed his hand up and down her back careful not to aggravate any injuries or sore spots before speaking.

"It's alright." He told her again, her hands that now gripped his shirt didn't loosen despite his assurances.

"We're out, see?" he paused, her eyes skittishly roaming the room again. "We're safe."

Ron waited a few moments, feeling the breaths she took against him. In the silence, he could hear footsteps in the hall. He could tell she heard them as well, tensing up again and her heart speeding up, anticipating an attack. Ron tried to calm her before anyone could enter.

"Listen," he started, pulling back to look in her anxious eyes. "You're safe here. No one here is going to hurt you, ok?"

She looked from him to the door, muffled voices in the hall floating under it.

"'Mione?" getting her attention again. "Ok?"

She bit her lip and nodded at him. The door opened and Fleur came in with Harry lingering near the doorway, as if afraid to come any closer. Fleur came to them, her sleepless night written on her face, and Hermione didn't relax in the woman's presence, clutching still to Ron's shirt, biting down on her lip. The woman offered her a warm smile, the kind that Ron could remember melting for years ago. But he'd long since found himself unaffected by it.

" 'ello 'ermione." She greeted sweetly, but the girl to whom she spoke remained braced. Keeping her eyes on the stranger, she kept her body prepared for the strike that was sure to come against her. Ron took a moment to wonder what she remembered from the previous night; the escape, being in Fleur's presence once already.

Fleur set a basin and a few vials she'd apparently brought with her on the stand next to the bed and then looked back to the girl.

" 'ow are you feeling?" she asked, sitting on the mattress edge.

Hermione consciously moved closer to Ron, though there wasn't much more ground to give. Fleur made note and spoke in a calm voice as she rose again.

"I only want to see 'ow you are 'ealing."

Hermione looked at her and then to Ron after a few unresponsive moments. He wondered if the thick accent partnered with her fear of the new place and person made it more impossible for her to even try to give the focus she required to assign meanings to words. Fleur reached toward her and Hermione reacted as he'd seen her do so many times. A flinch and a short whimpered cry as she tried to disappear into Ron's protection.

He secured her in his embrace and told her again that it was ok. He told her that Fleur was there to help and that he was right there with her. She looked to the French woman who, though she only knew a piece of the puzzle, tried a reassuring smile to let Hermione allow her to do what was needed. But Hermione only shook her head with watery eyes, vehemently unwilling to allow the stranger to touch her. Ron attempted to calm her before suggesting.

"What if I do it?" he suggested. "You can tell me what you need to do or see and I'll do it."

He understood Fleur's hesitant look. He knew next to nothing about healing. He added then:

"She trusts me." He told her, almost sounding like he was pleading. "Please, she…she needs to know she's safe."

The urge to ask what happened came to her for the billionth time and she looked to Harry still silently observing from the door. He nodded, agreeing with Ron that it was the best option at the moment. Fleur then sighed and agreed as well, giving Ron his first instruction.

Ron followed to the letter, speaking softly to the girl each time he did something. Even when it was Ron dong it, he could tell she was still terribly frightened. Hermione shook as he carefully and apologetically guided her to sit up in the center of the bed. He wondered if what made her quiver was her witness, or perhaps the memory of Ron's magically induced attack on her only nights ago. His hands that bruised now grazed bare skin as he maneuvered the fresh shirt around her to expose the healing wounds on her back that he hadn't seen the night before to Fleur's eyes without taking it off completely.

He rubbed salves on the scars still present bruises there and tried not to feel the sharp stab to his heart as she shuddered uncomfortably afraid under their eyes and his touch. But she didn't shy away; she let him do what he needed to. Her eyes continuously moving in a frantic path between all of them. Water continued to fill her orbs as she was next ushered to lie back and the hem of her shirt was carefully raised once again, this time to reveal the particularly nasty marks on the flesh of her chest and stomach.

Harry had taken steps out of the room at this moment and entered the hall, closing the door behind him.

Ron swallowed hard, trying not to stare at her exposure as he did what he was told. He changed the bandaging quickly, his own hands quivering at this point. He removed the pinked gauze on her abdomen with hesitance, remembering what was hidden beneath it and his initial reaction to the wound the night before.

It wasn't as bad as it was though it still appeared to be seeping her precious blood and wasn't as far along in recovery as her other injuries were. Inflamed and angry, slightly swollen and looking dreadfully painful, but still it was plain as day to read what it was. Ron inquired about the reasons to which Fleur explained.

"Ze others are injuries caused by somesing physical." She told him, handing him another concoction to place over it. "Ze ones made with dark magic are different. It takes longer to get better and ze scar eez left behind. I believe the cuts came from a cursed blade."

"So she'll always…" he swallowed. She clutched at the bed sheets and bit down on her lip as he touched the cream to it as gently as he could. "It'll always be there?"

"Wee, I'm afraid so." She answered regrettably. "Zey will."

Her words made Ron look at her confused.

"They?" he asked, his eyes going to the girl who eyes were still switching between him and Fleur. He hadn't noticed any scars or wounds as bad as this one. "What others?"

She gestured to the girl's right arm, which Ron hadn't taken a look at yet as it was lying on her other side. He carefully reached for her hand and gently pulled her arm towards him; he gave her a reassuring smile as he removed tenderly pulled back the stained white covering. As he lifted it, a few more slashes on her skin became visible to his eyes. Reluctant but curious, he removed it entirely. When he saw it before him, staring him in the face, he swallowed hard at the bile rising in his throat and turned away a moment. Taking a few steadying breaths, he forced himself to coat his fingers with the necessary salve and carefully covered smoothed it over the damaged skin and placed new bandaging on it with shaking hands.

Hermione's eyes watched his actions nervously, though she allowed him to do as was needed. When he set her arm back down on the bed, he took a few more gulps of oxygen and asked his sister-in-law if there were any more.

Habitually, Fleur moved to show him, remembering herself only when the guarded girl yet again flinched under her intention. She halted and instead gestured. Ron followed her movement and reached himself to where she indicated. Hermione's lip trembled as he neared his hand towards her face. Softly as possible, he pushed aside the curls that framed her face. The action, made with the gentility of a lover, revealed something he'd yet to see. On her left temple, he saw a welted scar shaped like a star's burst.

"What?" Ron looked at it, overcome with a morbid curiosity along with a furious anger. He didn't notice that his intense stare had begun to bring even more discomfort to the already on edge girl he inspected.

"What's it from?" he asked.

For some reason, he felt a strong compulsion to know about it. To know exactly what had been done to leave it behind.

"I am not sure." Fleur told him, to which Ron looked at her.

"It's magical, you said?" he clarified and Fleur nodded.

Hermione, during his focus on the scar, had ground increasingly uncomfortable. The sense of security, however small or large, in Ron began to waver the more he paid such intense attention to the wound.

What was he doing?

Ron.

The familiarity that hovered about him just out of grasp wasn't enough to calm her.

She felt herself become fearful of his intentions in bringing her to the strange place. Maybe she'd upset him and he was planning something to punish her.

"Ron." Fleur's voice made Hermione dart her eyes back over to her.

Hermione tried to focus on the words that followed, but it was impossible. She felt her head beginning to fog and spin as her body slowly began remembering exactly how much everything still hurt. The stranger's new voice went on, then a deeper one responded; him. Ron.

She gave a jerk when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Her heart began pounding and she saw his face again. It was his hand, he spoke to her but she still couldn't focus what any of it meant. In her fear, it was just noise. She began shaking more evidently.

Sounds came from somewhere not in the room.

Voices. Muffled by distance and her own floundering mind.

Voices… but whose? Who else was there in this place?

The snake? The woman? Were they waiting for her?

She could feel pounding, pounding, pounding in her chest. With crawling skin, she flinched again when he gave a small squeeze where his hand was. Her panicking eyes looked into his and he spoke once more, and then moved his head up and down. She knew what that meant, what he wanted her to do in response. That much was clear in her swirling frightened mind.

He'd helped her. She didn't want him to be upset with her. So Hermione swallowed and in quick jerking movements, did the same with her head; moving it up and down. Movement in the corner of her eyes grabbed her attention and Hermione flicked her eyes quickly toward the woman.

That was when her pounding heart exploded and a blast of chaos followed.

Everything around her faded into the background and all she saw was the wand.

Voices burst in her ears as she reacted to the sight. Darting backward without looking, she heard the dark woman talking and laughing in her ear as her arm hit a lamp on the nightstand when she fell from the bed. The snake hissed at her while she hit the floor, softer than she would have had Ron not been there to stop her fall as best he could.

She pulled herself away from his touch, lost in her mind, she didn't know she was screaming, seeing the wand, feeling the touch, reminding her body of memories.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

The sticks were never good.

Ron was scrambling not knowing what he could do.

Fleur had told him she needed to check Hermione's more private injuries. It came to propriety and what was best for her. Ron couldn't feel ok about exposing her in such a way and Fleur suggested that since the girl clearly didn't respond well to touch that wasn't Ron's, that magic would be best option. She could do a diagnostic spell that would be over in only a handful of seconds. Ron asked Hermione, speaking in a way that she would, hopefully, be able to understand his explanation of what was to happen.

She seemed to agree, rather shakily but agree nonetheless. However, he must not have done a well enough job of preparing her. The moment Fleur brought out her wand Hermione flew into a terrified fit of sorts. She ended up falling off the bed, knocking the lamp to the ground with a shattering crash and Ron barely got a hand under her. She started screaming, crying out as she moved away from his touch.

"Hermione!" he said her name, horrified for her. Watching her scramble away from them until her back was against the wall.

It was familiar, too damn painfully familiar. Ron took steps toward her as she covered herself much in the way she'd do every time someone entered the cell they'd shared, breath hitching as if being struck, crying out that same pained cry he never wanted to hear again.

He felt the pull of memories at the edge of his mind. The familiarity of the moment nearly sending him back to the shadows they'd just escaped from.

"The wand." Ron suddenly turned to Fleur. "Put away your wand."

She instantly did so and Ron approached Hermione. Her wet eyes wide as saucers, she hugged her knees up in her chest. It couldn't do well for the injuries she was finally getting treated.

"It's ok." He tried to get through to her.

Harry came bursting through the door, having heard the commotion from the hall. Fearing the worst, he came in, wand at the ready.

"No!" Ron shouted at him, but Hermione had already seen it.

Her breathing increased in rapidity and she put her hands on either side of her head, a breath before the window on the wall behind her shattered, sending glass every which way, and far too soon both Bill and Lupin came through in similar fashion.

"Harry!" Lupin hollered as he entered, fearing something had happened to the boy he promised to help and protect.

Before Ron could attempt to diffuse the chaotic situation, he grimaced and grabbed his arm where he'd been stung by the heat of a jet of light tearing past him. Bill dove out of the way in time to be missed by it; it shattered a dresser to debris instead. Remus uncovered his head and moved to use his wand against whoever had caused it, not knowing who it was that appeared to be attacking them.

"Wait!" Ron shouted desperately, stepping in front of the man, putting his hands up to keep him from going forward, shielding the cowering girl with his body.

"Stop. Wait." He ordered. "Sh-she didn't hurt anyone. She wasn't trying to. It-It was an accident. She just, She just got scared."

He kept his position looking over his shoulder seeing her hiding her face. He knew it wasn't on purpose. He'd heard stories, warnings really, of bursts of accidental magic from people with extreme emotional distress. This clearly was the category for what happened just as it had been with Bellatrix during their escape.

His chest heaved up and down in noticeable pants as he looked over all in the room. He lowered his arms and scanned his gaze over everyone, wishing they could understand. But how can someone who's never been in hell understand the feel of its fire?

He found eyes a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Fleur grabbed her husband at his bicep and moved to guide him out of the room.

"Come." she suggested. "We 'ave some sings to tend to."

Both Weasley men recognized her intent. Bill went along and Ron was grateful. Next Lupin sighed, something unreadable passing over his features before he exited as well. Ron would give himself time later to wonder what he and Harry had accomplished while together.

Harry hung back the longest. He ached to remain. To embrace his friend - both of them - and be sure to hold on to every minute. There was so much to say, so much still to talk about.

Not now.

He held Ron's eyes for a bit and then looked down at the weapon in his hands. He felt a short understanding of what triggered the episode.

"The wands?" he asked, a vague fragment of a question, but Ron knew exactly what he was asking.

Ron pressed his lips together before giving the smallest of nods. Harry took a step to the side until he could see her sitting on the floor against the wall, a tiny ball of a person. A great pain filled his heart and he moved forward as if to go to her. Ron took a step to intercept him.

"I don't think it's a good idea, mate." Ron instructed. "Not now."

Harry looked to Ron and frowned.

"I'm not going to hurt her." sounding offended by his interpretation of it.

"I know." he answered. "But she...she needs a little time; to know that she's safe here."

His hurt expression remained, not comforted by the words of reason he was offered. He knew Ron was only looking out for Hermione, but it didn't take the sting away. After spending months in the belief she was dead, grieving for his friend to find out she was alive, all he wanted to do was wrap her in a hug and promise nothing bad would ever befall her again.

He wanted to smile and joke and laugh with her as they'd done so often in the past. But instead, he was being cast away.

"I'll see you downstairs then." Harry finally said, not bothering to hide the offense he took. "When you have the chance, fill you in on everything."

Ron nodded and followed him to the door with his eyes. He closed and opened it twice, a part of him needing to make sure it wouldn't suddenly lock him in there. Logically, he knew he was safe here, that there was nothing to fear from closing the door, but he couldn't help the inkling worry that he'd find himself suddenly trapped again. Closing it for good, he sighed, feeling a slight pang of guilt for sending Harry away. He then turned and walked toward the girl, lowering to sit across from her. He said nothing until she seemed to sense his gaze and lifted her head to watch him.

He could see the fear still swimming in her eyes. They looked wildly around the room, searching for the ambush before returned to him.

Hermione flinched involuntarily when she saw his face.

He was upset. She'd upset him again.

Without much else she could currently grasp, one sure thing she knew was that she did not want him unhappy, especially not because of her.

She looked down, casting her eyes away from him.

"It's ok.' he answered, putting a tentative hand on her knee. Her initial tensing relaxed after a breath. "It's alright, it's not your fault."

She shook her head and Ron thought he heard her say something else, too quiet to determine. He blew out a sigh and stretched his brain for an idea; a way to help her.

Something came to him. Quite suddenly. He cast a look askance to her figure, sitting in such a similar fashion as he'd seen her in the dark.

Ron hopped to his feet, quick enough that she jerked and held herself in a tighter protective shape. The red head went to the curtains of the window unmarred by her magical outburst and drew them back a bit, letting more sunlight into the room.

The sunlight fell over his face. It hurt a bit, as had been the case upon his waking, but he couldn't look away.

The sun, the sky, the water...it was all so magnificent, made all the more so by his time in darkness. His breath was captured by the sight of it all.

When he did manage to turn himself away, it was to look at her again. She hadn't even been curious enough to see what he was doing.

"Hermione?" he said her name softly, she slowly lifted her head, squinting as the amount of light he stood in.

He held out an open hand, much like he'd done long ago when asking for their first, and as yet, only dance. She looked at it hesitantly as if unsure what he expected of her. Ron leaned down and offered a smile this time as well.

"Come on." he requested. "Come see. It's amazing."

He leaned down a bit more, his arm still extended to her. Hermione didn't know what was happening, but he was smiling. Maybe he wasn't made at her anymore.

She put a quivering hand in his palm and felt his fingers curl around it.

She remembered this.

The feeling it gave her, strange and intimidating, but not unwelcome. She held his hand too and let him pull her up.

Ron wrapped his free arm around her waist and held her, carefully assisting her toward the window. The brightness assaulted her and she closed her eyes against it with a sharp inhale. He saw this and held her a little more securely, letting her weight be held up by his.

He hoped this was a good idea. Hoped it wouldn't hurt. It was meant only to help, to show her how different the cottage was from the manor.

"Open your eyes." he coaxed gently, feeling her hand squeeze his a little tighter. "Go on."

A moment. Then another…Another.

Then, she cautiously parted her lids.

Closing them again right away...then trying again. He felt her move back into his chest, cringing away from the strength of it. She repeated her actions again, each time giving her orbs a little more time before shutting them away. Blinking several times until the attack became just a slight discomfort.

Her vision was spotted by the intense rays of the sun, but it didn't prevent the effect of the view. Ron heard her breath catch and he looked at her face. Watched her watching it. He felt another grin come to him.

Hermione stared in awe at the blues and whites and greens.

Colors.

Such bright beautiful colors. Wind swayed the long grass. Waves crashed against the shore before shying away back to the ocean.

She took an unsteady step forward, away from Ron's body, yet bringing his hand with her. Hermione, entranced by that which she held no recent memory of ever seeing, reached a shaking hand out as if to touch the beauty. Her fingertips met the glass of the window pane and she kept them there.

Her eyes burned with drops of fresh tears. She let out a breath that was almost a laugh mixed within an astounded exhale; a smile twitched the muscles around her mouth once.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" he asked, stepping up just behind her.

She was so hypnotized but what she saw, the reflexive flinch at the presence at her back. Instead, her smile grew and the tears slid down her face. Unable to help himself, he carefully moved closer to her and leaned his face into her hair. He longed to lay with her and bury his face in her curls and inhale her deeply. He took a deep breath of her and let out a whisper.

"Beautiful."

* * *

**THAT WAS LOOOONG! HOPE YOU ENJOYED.**


	18. Unwell

**A/N: Wow! So much has happened since I last popped in here to you guys! Not the least of which being the midnight craziness of HP 7.5…oh man that was a fun time. 3 ½ hours in line and an argument with a (seriously) crazy lady appropriately dressed as Bellatrix who tried to just saunter on in and take up a spot in front of people who'd been waiting for hours…Jeez if she could have I don't doubt I would have actually been hexed right there in the amc lobby! **

**After that was of course the actual movie which actually inspired one of the biggest arguments I've ever had with my brother. I loved the thing like nobody's business and he used the word "sucked" repeatedly. After a while of trying to have a calm back and forth on the why's and the what for's of the changes, it became clear that he would not listen to me so that was that.**

**A p.s. on that, I am not a twilight fan in the slightest so I think I was the only one laughing when I saw the preview for the new one and it showed mr. mr. sparkles breaking the headboard? Haha…but that's just me. No offense if you're into that, it's just not my style of vampire.**

**Then I spent 2 whole weeks in a cabin on a mountain! God it was fantastic! Alright, enough about my life, that's not why you're here…**

**PPS! LAST THING I SWEAR!**

**I wanted to make a grand shout out to everyone who reviewed the last chapter because it meant so much to me that so many of you were able to find the message at the end of it and read it exactly as I wanted it to come across… **

**HOPE. **

* * *

"_I'm not crazy; I'm just a little unwell."_ – '_Unwell'_ by Matchbox Twenty

* * *

Harry stood leaning against the wall. It was uncomfortable on his shoulder after a while, but he remained. His mind kept him prisoner in a loop of thoughts.

He recalled, with painful clarity, every word Ron spoke to him after Hermione was taken. Nothing was said with more certainty and passion than his statements about her. His adamant arguments that it was a trick; that they needed to find her.

And what had Harry done?

Denied him and spent his energy talking him down to acceptance.

His heart pumped his extreme guilt through his entire being. His blood riddled with the agonizing fact that he was responsible.

He brought them into a battle that was his to fight. Hermione was helping him escape Voldemort the day she was taken. He told Ron she was gone, he left her in their hands. He used the taboo that brought the snatchers down on them in the woods. Ron was sending him away to safety when he, too, fell into their clutches.

Why was it so easy for people he cared about to pay for being in his life?

His very best friends, the truest family he had, were paying dearly. Ron had left out details, no doubt. Harry knew Death Eaters and their so called lord. They cared about power. Exerting power over those they deemed less or weaker than they. Knowing that all too well, he couldn't imagine what they'd gone through. Having been subjected to the Cruciatis himself, he didn't wish such extreme pain on anyone. Least of all either of them.

Now…the defensive way Ron turned when he was surprised, bracing for a fight…the terrified look in Hermione's eyes …it was his fault.

He had to end this. For everyone.

He had to finish what they'd started. But he'd learned in his time without either friend, that he couldn't do it alone. At least not as effectively, it would probably take years for him to do it without help. He'd managed in all this time, to find no other horcrux. Not a clue or a trace of a lead.

He clenched his fists pressing his head against the wall. A furious anger was tearing at him.

Why couldn't he figure it out? He was supposed to be The Chosen One…the one that could save them all and he had only shown momentous failures so far.

Hermione would have found something he'd missed by now, and already formed a plan. Ron would've stepped up to have his back as he always so valiantly did. It wasn't right. It was his fight, and everyone else was paying for it.

He knocked the side of his fist against the wall. Selfishly, he felt himself wanting to gather Ron and form a plan for how to proceed with the search. But he couldn't ask him to continue with him. He couldn't ask him to simply move on from what he'd been through. More importantly, he knew he could never ask him to leave Hermione and she was certainly in no state at all to come along.

He supposed Lupin would continue with him as long as Harry would have him. As grateful as he was for him, as helpful as the werewolf was, it wasn't the same. It never felt right. He couldn't even be completely open with him about what they were doing, though Lupin didn't seem to care as long as he was helping fight the fight.

For years it had been the three of them fighting Voldemort, directly and otherwise. It only seemed right they all saw it through together.

A loud cracking lifted Harry's head and he drew his wand instinctively. The sound was unmistakable.

Someone else was at the cottage.

* * *

Ron felt the needling sensation in his leg. It had long fallen asleep as he sat on the floor. But he did not move from his position.

He sat on the floor, his back on the wall and his arm around the girl leaning against his chest. He wasn't sure how long they'd sat there, letting the sun drip over them, nor when she'd fallen asleep. But he didn't mind. His thoughts were keeping him occupied as his body felt hers against him.

He wondered what would happen now. The battle against Voldemort and his followers was far from over, Dumbledore's mission still incomplete. Harry would bring him up to speed on it, but then what?

He'd always just assumed when/if he got out, he'd pick up the fight with a new fury and see every last one of them fall; pay for all that they'd done. But that was before. Before he knew she was alive, before he knew how much she needed him.

Could he just run off into the fray again? Leave her behind?

Sure the cottage was safely hidden from knowledge of most everyone, but how long could it remain that way in the rapid darkness of the spreading world. And even if the Death Eaters never were to learn of it, Hermione trusted Ron.

Him. No one else.

How could she get by if he were to suddenly leave her amongst others? No matter how good their intentions were, she would need Merlin knew how long to find them trust worthy; to not feel like she had just escaped from one prison to another.

But …what of Harry?

His best friend assuming the worst and blaming himself all this time. Harry who had no choice but to forge ahead in the fight. Ron swore to be there to help. To always stand beside his friend.

But Hermione…

He shook his head, his mind dizzying him with the constant back and forth. It was simply enough to say he was torn. The next move would be extremely important, but he had no clue what it would be.

He told himself he should get up and talk to Harry and everyone. But his gaze fell to her and the warmth coming from her touch, and everything else seemed much less important than sitting there with her. He wondered on what she dreamt, hoping it wasn't another memory of darkness. He wanted at least that much to be given to her; some peace while she slept. Thankfully, he saw no trace of nightmares on her calm face.

He moved the arm that was wrapped around her, pulling some fallen hair aside and once again revealing the scarred tissue of her temple.

Something about it got to him. Differently than the other marks and mars he'd seen on her body. He couldn't place a finger on what it was, but it certainly had his attention.

He sighed and adjusted himself, the voice in his head telling him he really needed to speak with Harry.

"Alright." He whispered, as if answering it, resolving to finally leave and do just that.

He slowly slid his other arm beneath her knees, pausing briefly when she moved her head as though she were waking. When she remained asleep, he continued. Carefully lifting then moving her over to lie on the bed once again. She stirred and muttered a jumbled phrase of sounds that didn't seem to be any actual words, but never woke.

Ron stood straight and remained, watching her sleeping form a few moments more. Not knowing how he could entertain the thought of leaving when he could barely pull himself away just to the other room. He ran a hand through his hair, noting that it should probably get a cut, and reluctantly left the room.

Ron descended the stairs slowly, hearing voices becoming clearer the closer he got. His movements halted altogether when he got to the point that he recognized exactly who seemed to be speaking.

He couldn't believe it; his ears had to be wrong. So he made his way to the kitchen area where the sounds were coming from. He had to see with his own eyes, because there was no way…

As soon as he entered he saw it was true.

Eyes fell on him and not a breath later he was wrapped in a powerful vice-like hug from him mother's arms.

"Ron!" she nearly shouted, as if angry but he could hear the tears in her words.

Standing shocked for a moment, he then returned his mother's embrace with one of his own. The smaller woman getting a crushing grip from her youngest son who was far along on the journey to becoming a man.

He missed her, all his family, so very much.

"Ronald Weasley." He heard her start and knew she would be yelling at him now. "How dare you? Stealing off for months without a word, leaving a ghoul in your place!"

She was shouting at him, reprimanding him through the relieved tears on her face.

"If you think this will go unpunished you've another thing coming."

Ron knew it was how she had to react. His mother was an emotional woman; she felt everything very powerfully and often all at once. He found a small smile as he responded.

"I know, Mum." He didn't mention that any punishment he had would never compare to anything he'd already experienced. He'd go his life without telling his family what he'd been through.

"Son." His dad's hand came down on his shoulder getting his attention. Ron then moved to embrace his father.

His greatest role model gave him a welcome hug in response. Arthur was overly thrilled to see his son alive and well. When they parted Ron had to ask.

"What are you doing here?"

"Bill sent word this morning that you were here." Arthur relayed.

Ron was surprised. That seemed like a great risk to take. He hoped there was some sort of security measure taken for getting the message out. He reminded himself to ask about it later, right now he was still too shocked by the fact that his parents were really standing there with him.

"Yes." Molly contributed to her husband's words with a nod of tear-stained up face. She wiped at them and gave a smile, nodding again. "Hermione as well. Where is that girl? She won't be getting off without her own share, you know."

Ron's face fell a bit and he habitually looked back up the stairs where he knew she was, realizing it was more than his own welfare his parents must have been racked with worry about. He glanced around the room; he didn't see Harry and assumed he'd already had his share of the reunion. He wondered where he was, suddenly worried that he was with Hermione… which was ridiculous. That shouldn't worry him. Harry would never hurt her.

He shook his head, remembering his parents, he had to focus.

"She's… asleep." He answered, though he knew he'd have to explain more before they saw her. And knowing his mother, she'd want to see her as soon as possible.

The woman's maternal capacity had no end.

"Well perhaps you could wake her." Molly suggested, her voice straining to remain calm. "It's been so long…"

"Mum, I don't think we should." He tried to decide how to get into it. "You know, it's been a long night and …"

"You'll do as I say Ronald." She snapped sharply. "And I say-"

"Molly." Arthur's much softer voice interrupted the outburst, his father putting a hand on her shoulders.

"We said calm, remember?"

"I know, but…" her emotion welling up again.

Ron suddenly got the feeling he was missing something.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, confused by the sudden flip in the mood.

His father stepped forward after sharing a look with his wife, pulling something out of his pocket. The Weasley patriarch unfolded the paper and gazed at it a moment before handing it over. Ron accepted it with deliberate gentility as it appeared to be delicate; something kept and unfolded time and time again. He cast his eyes to the flimsy paper in his hands.

It was a picture of Hermione, her name and age printed beneath it. The photo was at least a year old though he couldn't place exactly when… somewhere in Hogwarts by the looks of it.

"What is it?" he asked, fingering the uneven edges. It had been torn out of something.

"It's from _The Daily Prophet_." His father told him solemnly. "Suspected missing or dead."

He said the last word softer than the rest. This made Ron understand his mother's seemingly odd behavior. They'd thought she was dead too. They'd surely mourned and grieved the apparent loss just as he and Harry had.

Ron looked at his father, the swirl in the eyes the same color as his, told many stories. One of which was the strain and exhaustion the war took on the man who'd already lived through one. But the other said something else.

"There's more." Ron speculated. "Something else is going on, what?"

Arthur looked to his wife who seemed to understand what he was trying to silently tell her.

"I'll see where Harry's run off to." Molly excused.

His mother paused in front of Ron before leaving, giving him another strong hug. He remembered when he was a child and there didn't seem to be anything in the world that couldn't be made better by those arms.

How he wished that were still the case.

When they were alone, he heard his father sigh heavily and knew there was no way anything he said would be good.

"What's going on?" he asked cautiously, already far on the edge.

"The Order and I…we've received some disturbing information." He began.

"What is it?" he asked, nervous but needed to hear it. His father was looking down at his shoes for a moment. That frightened Ron. What would make the man so …he couldn't place it…was he afraid? "Dad?"

"You Know Who has..." he ran a hand over his face and looked at his young son. "…it seems, in your …time," the way he said this word sent a quick wave of upset through Ron's body. Did he mean his time and the manor? Did they somehow know about that? It was the last thing he ever wanted to burden his parents with, and he couldn't be sure whether or not they were already aware. "…some events occurred that gave reason for the two of you to be listed as big a target as Harry."

"What?" Ron asked shocked. "But that…You mean he wants us caught as bad as Harry? No that can't be right. It doesn't make any sense. Why?"

"I was hoping you could tell me, son." He replied.

Ron looked at the wall and tried to think.

Why would Voldemort want them, anyone, nearly as bad as Harry? Harry was The Chosen One. The one with the destiny, meant to destroy all that Tom Riddle ever stood for.

Who was he, Ron Weasley, to him?

Perhaps because of the connection to Harry. Maybe he'd embarrassed them too much by escaping.

He could only speculate that for Hermione it was because her brilliant mind had always assisted and at times helmed Harry's many victories.

'_But hadn't they already done away with that?_' The words sprung into his mind so quickly he couldn't stop them.

Ron shook his head fiercely to shut the thought away. Scolding himself for even having it. She was no less than she was before.

She just needed time…a little help to find her light again.

"I don't know. Really." He answered.

"Is it possible," he began, stepping closer to his son. "that you learned something they didn't want you to learn?"

"I don't think so." He answered, half regrettable that he didn't have the valued information, half glad that he didn't have what they would kill for.

"Could Hermione?"

Ron paused. She'd been there so long, in that time she could easily have heard something…figured something out…maybe the most important thing. That'd be just like her. Solving a puzzle when there were imminent dangers around.

"Maybe." He answered, not having a direct answer.

"Alright." Arthur nodded. "We'll wait until she's had her rest; ask her once she wakes."

"Dad…" Ron began somberly. "It's not that simple."

If she knew something, and now Ron was thinking it was more and more possible, whatever it was, was somewhere in her mind. All but lost amidst the confusion that clouded it.

How could she share it with them?

A short while later, Harry handed back the paper that Ron showed him which declared that the very much alive girl was feared dead not only by her best friends, but by the entire wizarding world. Having not seen an issue of _The Daily Prophet_ in many months, the scarred boy hadn't been any more aware of it than Ron.

"I don't understand why." Harry declared as the paper exchanged hands. "Why put it in the paper? I already saw what they wanted me to see, what good does it do?"

"Maybe it wasn't about you." Ron replied, gazing down again at her picture before continuing. "Dad thinks it was for the people fighting...a blow to whatever resistance there is, you know?"

He watched his friend give a nod, the reasoning making sense to him. It would definitely hit the movement hard to know that one of the treasured trio had fallen. He understood.

"He also says...they're looking for her." Ron cleared his throat, purposefully leaving out the fact that they sought him as well. "The Order thinks, they think maybe she knows something; something You-Know-Who doesn't want anyone to know."

Harry was silent a moment but Ron could see his emotion battling his mind. His eyes showing a struggle between anger and contemplation. He finally asked in a hushed voice despite them being alone in the living room of the sleeping house.

"The horcruxes?" he guessed. "She must have found out about them; what one of them is, maybe even all of them."

"It makes sense. But," Ron agreed, then spoke in a voice both worried and firm with certainty. "even if it's not, no matter what Harry...they can't get near her again."

"I know, mate." he nodded in total agreement. "They won't, I promise."

It was getting late as they sat alone in the room. Ron's body urged him to go upstairs to her room and sit with her. Standing guard, as it were.

She'd slept through most of the day, waking twice from what could only be called 'terrors,' though she hadn't screamed. Both times she'd come around with a fright after sweating and contorting her body in her sleep.

On the first waking she'd been alone. By herself, fresh from the nightmare, in an unfamiliar place and a learned habit, she panicked. Ron heard the frantic movement from above the kitchen where he stood and was alerted that she was awake. He ran to her room, Harry on his heels, and saw the bed empty and no sign of her.

They found her, not unlike a frightened animal, hiding under the bed.

Seeming the most secure place from an attack in the room. It took several minutes for Ron to calm her from the visible shaking as she lay on her stomach under the furniture. It was his hair again that was able do so.

As in the hellish manor, she found what may seem to some as an inexplicable comfort in his fiery locks. He'd spoken to her as calmly and encouragingly as possible, but it wasn't until he'd squeezed himself just past the bed frame that she bit her lip before reaching for his hair.

The second time Ron was already in the room. He was at her side right away to tell her it was alright. Fleur provided them with dreamless sleep which Ron coaxed her into allowing him to give it to her.

Since then, silence.

But as much as he wanted to go up to her once again, he had to discuss one more thing with his best friend.

"Listen, there's something else." he began and immediately Harry braced himself for still more devastating news. "About the horcruxes, you know, looking for them. I don't know..."

"It's alright." Harry let him know. "I understand, Ron. After what's happened, I wouldn't expect you to want to head back out there. You have a choice, stay safe."

"It's not like that, you know." he wanted to make sure his friend didn't think Ron wanted to abandon him…not again. "It's not like I don't want to help, honest, it's..."

He paused, casting his eyes briefly to the ceiling as if he may be able to see her through it. He softened his voice when he spoke again returning his gaze to Harry.

"She trusts me. If I leave she may not-she may not let anyone help her, keep her safe. I think I might be her best chance at getting better. Maybe her only chance."

Harry nodded, telling Ron he understood though he failed to keep the sliver of disappointment from his emerald eyes. He looked over his friend, wondering if he was giving a drop of thought to his own recovery. True he may not have such extreme experience as Hermione, but that didn't mean his demons were any more silent.

He wanted to ask how he was; wanted to spill a thousand apologies.

But before he could form the words Ron spoke first, stating they should get some sleep.

Harry figured he shouldn't have been surprised when Ron went toward Hermione's room, but he was nevertheless. Bill and Fleur in the other guest room had volunteered the master for the Weasley parents while the boys were to make use of the couches. But Ron didn't stay to share the living room. Reluctant to let either of his friends out of his sight for very long, Harry sighed and lay out on the couch to search for the sleep he doubted he'd find.

Ron entered the room as quiet as possible. Creeping as silently as he could manage despite the few groaning floor boards. Ron came upon the bed, taking the time to observe her sleeping form.

She was on her side, curled to a fetal position made loose by the relaxed state of slumber. He ran his index finger and thumb against each other as he debated his moves in his head in the same manner he would during a quidditch match. Standing beside Hermione, Ron again felt two people within him.

One that was as still as the night air he stood in, unable and unwilling to move from the moment of simply watching her. The other was on fire; a beast bred in the mixed flames of rage and love that needed him to race from his spot and commit to a mission of bloody vengeance. This person had been born when she 'died'. But now he was louder and, if possible, angrier than ever. That person, that half of him stood on the side of going with Harry to ensure the devils paid their due for all they'd done.

Ron shook his head, telling himself such thoughts wouldn't do any good now. He sighed and allowed another debatable thought come to him. Would it be ok to lie beside her while she slept?

This one he found he could solve rather quickly. He first took Hermione's wand from his waist and set some protective words around their room. Next he brought a dim light to life in the closet. The sun was still up when she'd fallen to sleep, he didn't wish her to be stuck only in shadows if she were to wake...and, to be honest with himself, he didn't feel too easy with the darkness himself just yet.

The final thing Ron did was go to the door and open it. Once more, he felt the need to make sure it wasn't locked. Even knowing the ridiculousness of his worry, he still couldn't keep from needing to double and triple check that he wouldn't find himself trapped. The third time he opened and closed the door, he decided he could accept that it wouldn't suddenly be locked behind him.

Yawning, he set her wand in the drawer next to Bellatrix's and sat on the mattress. He lowered himself to lie on his back above the covers while she was under. He ached to hold her against him, for their legs to entwine with one another's while they slept, but he forced himself to refrain. All physical contact, with the exception of their escape, had been initiated by Hermione.

So he told himself it was best to keep it that way, doing so let her set the limits for what was ok. He heard her steady breaths and turned on his side to face her. Keeping space between their bodies so they weren't touching, Ron fell asleep watching her.

_Ron walked along the green grass, his hands in his pockets as the bright sun covered the world in its warmth._

_The more he walked the more familiar the scenery felt until he realized he knew exactly where he was. Ron began his steps up a hill, knowing exactly what view was waiting for him when he reached the top. Standing at the top, you could take in the panoramic view of Hogwarts._

_Hogwarts._

_His heart swelled with the knowledge it was there. he never thought he'd miss a school building as much as he did. He reached the top quickly and was surprised to find he wasn't the only one admiring the view._

_She was already there._

_The sun complimenting her fair skin as a breeze danced through her hair. He breathlessly stood beside her, the castle forgotten. He stared straight at her._

_Hermione glanced sideways at him with a smile she kept from becoming too wide, as if she were purposefully suppressing it._

_"Hello Ron." she greeted and his heart soared._

_"Hello." he said, feeling the rapid speed of his heart as he gazed upon her and really saw her. The Hermione he'd known for years. "You're here."_

_She looked back out towards the school._

_"I suppose it's a bit predictable, really. But I couldn't help it." she informed. "I miss it."_

_Ron didn't let his gaze get distracted from her._

_"We learned so much there. We grew up there, really." she went on to say with fondness. "Don't you miss it?"_

_"Yeah." he confessed. "But not as much as I miss you."_

_"Nonsense." she dismissed as if it was a joke. "I haven't gone anywhere."_

_Ron stepped closer._

_"But you have, kind of. In a way." he stated, reluctantly admitting to her what he'd been denying to all others. "You, this you, you're not there, here."_

_She sighed, almost sounding amused by what he said. She grinned at him._

_"I'm not so far off." she told him. _

_"So you can come back." Ron concluded, nodding. "You'll come back? Soon?"_

_There was no sign of amusement on her features. It didn't last long, the seriousness, before she turned away back towards their school. She was silent, telling him in that way that there was something she didn't or couldn't say. She suddenly turned to him._

_"Let's go inside!" she suggested happily, avoiding an answer to his question. "The library! I haven't read in so long!"_

_She grabbed for Ron's hand, presumably to lead him to the school library and the books she held so dear, he couldn't know for sure because as soon as their skin touched-_

Ron's eyes sprang open.

It was still night, or at least still dark. He could see the outline of her features before him in the soft glow from the closet; Hermione still resting comfortably.

He then noticed that she had moved a bit in her sleep. The fingers on her hand barely touching his wrist, the contact so light it tickled. It brought him to think on the dream he'd just woke from.

What did that mean?

Anything?

His realist told him dreams had no true meaning. But his other side was lifted and wondered if the interaction with Hermione in his dream could have a meaning within it.

If so, he had to wonder again...

What did it mean?

X

X

X


	19. Words

**A/N: This is long, there's a note at the bottom because I didn't want to waste time for you guys since I already took too much of it to get this out there.**

* * *

'_I'd give anything, but I won't give up on you.' _– _'Words'_ by Train

* * *

X

"Ok." Ron began, slightly nervous about what may or may not happen.

He stood in the doorway and faced his mother. He wasn't sure how good an idea it was just yet, but it was insisted upon by the woman. Perhaps, he thought, it would be good ...for the both of them. Each of them meaning a great deal to the other.

"Just..." he trailed not really knowing the words he should use. Wringing her weathered hands, she nodded and gave him what smile she could muster.

Ron gave his mother a kiss on the forehead, remembering when she was the one who had to lean down to kiss him. When exactly had the roles reversed? Him now attempting to comfort her through her distress. But inside he wanted nothing more than to be able to climb up onto his mother's lap and let her hug him to her while she would hum a soft song for him.

The young man led her into the room. Hermione was doing physically better today. The potions were beginning to show results in returning her strength and nourishment. It had only been a couple days but Ron could already see the difference. Slight, but noticeable to him at the very least.

She was sitting up in bed, her hands resting on the sheet, the fabric beneath wrinkled from the tightness of the grip she applied periodically. She was facing the window, having taken a liking to doing. The rays hitting her hair reminded him of the dream he'd had.

He approached and knelt before her to see her eyes, carefully placing his hands overs. He managed a soft smile and gently asked if she was ok. She still was obviously far from feeling safe or comfortable there or anywhere. The closest she came to relaxation, while awake, was her time spent watching the water's edge from her window and whenever she as in close proximity to him. He knew that part wasn't just his imagination; she did feel safe around him.

Ron nodded in his mother's direction and spoke to the girl.

"D'you know who that is?" he asked, knowing how much it would mean to both of them if she answered positively.

Molly stood by the foot of the bed, already fighting tears. She held her own hands tightly in attempt to keep from wrapping them around the girl. She didn't know what to expect despite her son's best effort to brace her when he finally realized he couldn't rightfully keep his mother from seeing her. And it wasn't fair to try.

How could she learn to trust anyone if he didn't give her the chance?

After a moment, Hermione moved her eyes to see who he spoke of. When she saw the woman she squeezed his hands and he spoke again.

"That's Mum." he told her then went on. "Actually, my mum. She's Molly to you, well Mrs. Weasley, but she always tells you to call her Molly."

Ron cleared his throat of his ramble and gestured for his mother to come closer. The woman took the steps to stand beside him; Hermione's eyes following her movement.

Ron felt her small hands pull on his when his mother came over as if trying to get him away from her. He began a small grin at the action. She was trying to protect him.

"It's ok." he answered her assuringly. "She's not gonna hurt you or me."

He looked up at his mother's moist eyes and removed a hand from Hermione, reaching to take Molly's. Her wrinkling hands paled as she held him tightly. Tear drops beginning to slide down her face.

"See?" he asked, Molly put her freehand on her youngest boy's shoulder. "She wants to help. She loves you, just like m-"

He paused and looked up at his mom. He knew he'd said the words to Hermione, but saying it again here in front of his mother during the unsure situation didn't seem like a great way to announce his feelings. But again, wasn't that always his problem? That he'd always been too afraid to say what he should when the opportunities were there.

"Just like I do." he stated. "Like we all do."

"Hello dear." Molly decided it was a good time to speak and did so in a voice that shook with emotion despite the few words used.

The redheads waited breath on hold, for her next move. Hermione looked her over, her eyes settling on where her hand touched Ron. She looked at him.

It didn't look like the woman was hurting him. That was good.

She saw the woman with black hair hurt him, the white man too. She didn't like it. She didn't like him to be hurt.

Then she looked to where his hand was on hers. Hermione looked down at her own hand clasped in his.

It wasn't bad. It didn't hurt.

It was a good thing; nice. She found that out when they were both in the dark place.

Brown eyes looked back to the woman again. The hair on her head was like his. The way the white man and the one who brought the food had the same kind.

She swallowed and Ron let himself become elated when she began moving her mouth. She hadn't yet spoken a word since their arrival, only unintelligible sounds had escaped those lips until now. She looked at Molly as the word came out.

"Hi." it came out in the small voice.

He let out a relieved and happy laugh, his own tears matching his mother's, who smiled in return and answered repeating herself.

"Hello." she said again.

Ron looked between the two and spoke again to Hermione.

"I'm going to, uh, leave you with her for a few minutes, alright?" he asked; saying the next part for the both of them. "If anything happens, if you need anything, just holler."

Hermione answered him with a nod despite his hopes that she would begin speaking more. It was something they needed to work on for sure.

He glanced once more at Molly before leaving to give them some time alone.

In the hall he ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. He turned to go find Harry. After the dream, he'd been itching with an idea and needed to Harry's help for it. Specifically, the beaded bag he'd shoved in the other boy's hands before they separated in the forest all those long, long days ago.

When he found his friend, Harry was doubled over in pain. The hand clasped over his head made Ron nervous. He was feeling Voldemort.

Was it his presence? Was he already on his way to the homely cottage?

Ron rushed to Harry's side and said his name a couple times before the boy responded.

"It's him." he stated as if Ron hadn't known, through clenched teeth.

"What about him?" Ron asked with a panicking heart. "What about him, Harry? Is he coming?"

Ron's mind was bombarded with scenarios.

Voldemort and Death Eaters descending on his brother's house. Of hexes and curses flying at, and hitting, the people he loved. Being back in that dark room ripped away from the sun once more.

Worse: Hermione.

Failing her again. Her scarcely there stability and progress demolished. They wouldn't keep them together this time. Not after they'd managed to escape.

They'd be separated if taken alive at all. He wouldn't be able to comfort her; help her. She'd truly lose what was left of herself.

"No." Harry suddenly answered, making Ron aware he'd been holding his breath in his panic. Harry was panting and stood straight, sweat gleaming over his skin.

"But he isn't happy."

X

* * *

X

The creature, not having truly been a man for some time, seethed. Releasing his outright fury on the subordinates who had failed him so greatly. It was a grand failure which could not be taken lightly. No failure could be dealt with lightly. Punishments were dealt for even the smallest display of incompetence. But now, especially, lesson of severe nature had to be taught to even his most devoted followers.

The Dark Lord Voldemort snarled as he turned his wand on the blunderer.

After a few moments, he released his hex and growled when the voice spoke up.

"My Lord," it lacked its usual tone of deranged merriment. Instead it was nervous and desperate for redemption. "I beg you; allow me to earn your forgiveness. Grant me the…chance to fix it."

"You will rectify your mistakes." He informed, though his offer was generous his voice remained cold as the stone she knelt on. "Or your final breath will be taken in this room."

"Yes, my lord." Bellatrix agreed. "I vow to ensure the mudblood is returned to the filth with which it belongs."

"Pray she hasn't spoken her knowledge before then, for it was also your own foolishness that puts her in position to do so."

"She won't, my lord." She swore. "I'm confident of that and in the dark prowess of your advanced skills."

"Be that as it may, no chances will be taken."

X

* * *

X

There was awkwardness about the air in the room. Neither aware of how to behave or what to expect.

Hermione regarded the Weasley matriarch with a wary eye, though more relaxed then as with other visitors, while Molly's nerves sent her to unnecessarily tidy points of the room. She spoke while doing so even though she wasn't sure what she should or shouldn't be saying to the girl.

"Ginny will be overjoyed to know you're…with us again." She stated, currently busying her hands with smoothing out the bed's corner. "She was devastated to hear…well, we all were. But it's not exactly safe to try to send this news to her at Hogwarts. I'm afraid the school isn't how you remember it anymore."

Molly's hands paused, her eyes cast down at them for a breath. She looked up at the young girl and moved to sit beside the bed. The woman offered a kind smile and quietly asked.

"Is it something you remember, dear?" she asked. "School; your professors?"

Hermione gave no answer and Molly forced a slightly smile and nodded.

"In time." she said soothingly, though she couldn't be positive she wasn't trying to comfort herself with the words.

Habitually, she reached out to pat the girl's hand as she said this. Remembering herself and dropping her smile when Hermione pulled her hand away before any contact could be made. She recovered fairly quickly and found something else to keep her busy.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, spying the half empty dish on the nightstand from the breakfast. "I'll get you something to eat, hmm? Something that'll help with the rubbish taste those potions leave."

Molly rose to take the empty bowl, where normally she would have just vanished it with a wave of her wand. She gazed at its remaining contents, using what was left as a guide to how much the girl could handle at the moment before trying to gradually add to the quantity as well as what ingredients were used. She sighed sadly at the broth before looking back up at the girl. She found Hermione was watching, a mixed expression on her face, but what appeared to dominate was curiosity.

She suddenly got a thought.

"Would you like to see something?" Molly nodded with a small smile when she got no response.

She quickly left the room and, to Hermione's surprise, didn't close the door behind her. This perplexed Hermione as doors were always closed when people went through them. Even Ron shut her behind a door. Leaning forward slightly, she tried to get a look through the opening and wondered what it was like passed it; wondered how much trouble she'd get into if she tried to go through.

Her thoughts ended when Molly came back into the room, closing them both behind the door, and carefully lowered herself to sit on the bed's edge.

"Here we go." She spoke, holding something against her chest a contemplative moment before laying it down on her lap. Her fingers ran over the words across the cover spelling out the name of her son and his wife.

Hermione watched her pull it apart, the cracking sound it made gave her a strange fluttering feeling and she sat up a little straighter. Unsure why she was reacting this way, she watched the woman's hands with a new intensity.

Molly turned to look over her shoulder at Hermione. The young girl sat at the head of the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, but was watching with a familiar attentiveness that she could recall being an everyday occurrence from the 'old Hermione.' Molly looked back to the book with small smile, to the first photo of smiling people and began speaking, narrating over each picture. She touched briefly on each one, every page containing photos from the wedding that was so beautiful until the moment that message reached them; then chaos.

"Ah, here it is." Molly commented, looking up again to Hermione and moving a bit closer to the center of the mattress and laying the book down on the cover.

"See here?" she commented pointing at the center photo; one of the three of them in their wedding attire.

The three children, well not children anymore, stood with one another, all smiles and laughter before her eyes.

"The three of you have been inseparable since your first year, and causing trouble every minute of it I assure you." She commented then sighed as she looked back at the picture. "Look how beautiful you are…it seems so long ago."

Hermione scooted herself a bit closer to the book. Moving farther down the bed, she unwrapped her arms from around herself and peered down at the moving photograph. The aging woman keeping a discreet gaze on her while she stared, enthralled by the picture. She watched her then move one of her too thin arms. Hermione reached out toward the page, hesitantly pausing and looking over at Molly. Reading the girl's brown eyes, the woman spoke with a nod.

"Go ahead, dear. It's alright." Answering the silent question for permission.

Hermione's hand wavered slightly as she moved. Lightly, she touched fingertips to the picture. First running them over her face. Molly continuously moved her own gaze between following the movements of her hand and watching Hermione's face. The girl, so drastically changed since the picture was taken, twitched the corner of her mouth into a ghost of a smile when she moved her fingers over the youngest of the Weasley men in the photograph.

The woman was watching this with fondness when the young witch turned to face her. Hermione flicked her eyes back to the image before quickly looking to Molly again.

"Ron." She spoke quietly, almost sounding like a question more than a statement.

The woman could only look surprised for a few breaths before letting it out of her lungs and feeling the easy beginnings of tears as she smiled. She didn't know the extent of damage upon the girl, but regardless of that, this small action of Hermione's filled her heart.

"Yes." She responded happily. "That's Ron. He cleans up nice when he allows for it, doesn't he?"

She almost laughed with glee from such a small action that felt so big. She felt a swell of pride in her heart for the young witch. Of course she wasn't beyond help and such a thing was only proof of that. Molly then pointed to the dressed up girl between the two boys.

"Here." She said as she tapped the image. "Know her?"

Hermione took a moment before figuring out what was being asked of her. When she did, she moved her hand and touched it to her own chest.

"Yes." Molly stated excitedly nodding.

Mentally she was cursing. The girl who was always so smart, the most intelligent witch or muggle of her age, was this girl before her. A girl Molly was speaking to as if she were a simple child. The world truly was a cruel, unjust place.

The older witch then pointed at the last person in the photograph.

"Him?"

Hermione studied it with a crease in her forehead for a bit longer than she'd taken for the other two. She recalled the face, she'd saw him when she woke up; other than that, she had no answer. Hermione looked up at the woman, then back at the picture before once again looking to Molly. The woman watched her touch her shaking hand to her temple, her bottom lip between her teeth and a sheet of moisture glistened over her eyes.

"No, no. Don't upset yourself darling." Molly immediately began. "It's fine, dear, it's fine."

Hermione wrapped her arms back around herself and shook her head side to side.

"Hermione, it's alright." She tried to comfort her. "You're doing very well, I promise. You'll get it in time."

Ron reentered, trying to shake away the heavy feeling on his shoulders before either women could see it. He saw the wedding album open on the bed and his mother speaking soft words to the girl.

Both sets of eyes shot up to him when he came in and he forced a smile to his face as a greeting. His mother's eyes went to what he held in his hand and he shrugged a bit and spoke.

"Guess we both had kind of the same idea." He suggested, coming closer to them.

His mother gave him a small smile, knowing that while the overall idea may appear the same, she knew his was greater. She could see his intentions the moment he came in carrying the book. She closed the album, setting it aside, hoping perhaps the girl would want to spend more time glancing at the familiar faces within.

"I'll leave you two, then." She informed and began to leave; when she was near her son he stopped her quietly.

"How'd it go?" he asked nervously.

"Well." She answered. "She's not so far as we may fear."

Ron felt a tingle track his spine as her words reminded him so much of Hermione's in his dream. He nodded and she laid a cool hand on his cheek a moment, telling him she would be in the kitchen helping Fleur with the potions that she needed to restock for the girl.

Ron came to sit beside her bed once again and showed her the book in his hands. Hermione looked at what he showed her and again felt the spark come to her chest. She didn't know why she felt so…excited when she saw them, but she liked it.

She reached out her hand, touching the thick hard cover, laying her palm against for a few heartbeats. Ron watched this and could have screamed with joy; there she was. He grinned and started speaking to her.

"Trust you to pack this in the bag with all the 'essentials.' "He teased though she didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "I know I'm not the best speaker, but I thought, if you'd like, I could read it to you?"

Her voice gave no response, but she sat up and looked at him with what he'd call expectancy. Ron pulled the chair a bit closer and leaned back in it, pulling the book into his lap. He was a bit nervous about doing this for her, simply because, as he'd said, he knew he wasn't the greatest speaker. He wasn't all that great at reading something smoothly if it wasn't about something he was particularly interested in. Even though he knew she wouldn't judge him for it, he still felt self-conscious about the possibility of embarrassing himself in front of her.

Hermione watched him.

She was sitting up straight, waiting for him to open it. She wanted to hear the crackling sound again. She wanted to see what was inside.

She wanted to convey this to him, but was unsure how. Words rolled around in her skull, spoken in other people's voices.

While she attempted to figure out which ones she wanted, she heard Ron cleared his throat.

"Ok." He started. "Hogwarts, A History."

Then came the crackling sound, as he lifted the cover to the first page. He began to read, occasionally, stuttering occasionally a word or two, but Hermione didn't seem to mind. His eyes continued to flick over to her, and each time they did, he'd found her watching him, her eyes wide and alert.

Ron himself would never understand what she so fascinating about this particular book. He, himself, found it to be extremely boring and unnecessary. As he'd told her before, he had no need to ever read it when he knew she had the entire thing memorized.

The young wizard didn't know how much time had passed, but he could tell it had been a while. He let out a sigh after finishing his current paragraph on the apparating restrictions on the grounds. Rubbing his aching eyes he then saw the shadows that had spread over the outside world and silence had taken over the cottage. As a matter of fact, he hadn't heard any form of life since Fleur came by the room to give him the potions he helped Hermione take. Stretching his arms up over his head, he cast a look over to Hermione, expecting her to have fallen asleep or at least be drowsy. But to his surprise, she was as wide awake as ever, still watching him.

Ron let out a tired chuckle and wiped his hand over his face. He clearly didn't have the stamina for so much non-stop reading as she did. As much as he wanted to give her everything she could ever ask for, especially something as simple as reading a book to her, he didn't think he'd be able to keep going much longer.

"Don't suppose you're ready to stop?" he asked.

She looked at him a moment before reaching over and turning the page for him. Words or not, her wishes were clear and he suppressed a groan. He continuously reminded himself that he couldn't be a quick to resort to teases or barbs anymore where she was concerned. Even when all he wanted to do was put the book down for a few minutes and she disagreed. He old himself he had to be the one who thought before he spoke now; before he acted. Besides, he would ignore his desire for a break for the sake of the look in her eyes.

"Alright, a bit more then." He spoke before sighing and starting from the new page she'd put him on.

It was only a short while later that Ron's head was tilted back, eyes closed and mouth open as the soft snores drifted in and out. The book, forgotten by his gripless hands as he fell asleep, was now in Hermione's possession.

The girl had been concerned as the boy's voice began to slow and the pauses between his words became longer and longer before stopping altogether, but when he'd unintentionally fallen asleep in the middle of reading, she took the opportunity to carefully take the book.

She held it open in her lap and looked down at it with wide eyes running over the printed words. She laid her palm on the current page and carefully slid her hand down; stroking it as if it were a treasure. The pages singing their crinkled song as she turned them to see more. Never staying on one page too long, never reading it but admiring it all the same, a smile tugging on her lips the entire time. But the candle suddenly burnt out, letting a darkness completely overtake the room.

It was only now that she finally looked up from the paper; frozen in the absolute darkness. First her eyes went to Ron, but his eyes were still closed. She bit her lip, when she heard something.

Steps.

Someone was moving around when it was supposed to be quiet.

It might not be bad. At least, she tried to tell herself that. There were others beside Ron, so it didn't mean it was bad. But still, when she looked to the window, searching for the feeling the picture of it gave her, she found the darkness feeding into her sudden bout of nerves.

Fearful and uncertain, she looked toward the door expecting someone to come through. After a few moments of more steps, she saw something…more like, she realized something. Something she hadn't noticed while so enchanted by the book. The door, it wasn't closed; not completely.

Her heart sped up.

That's when they would come. In the dark, through the door. She glanced over to Ron who suddenly mumbled something before going quiet once again. She didn't want them to hurt him.

With that in mind, she grabbed her blanket with shaking hands and moved it. Slowly sliding her legs until they were hanging off the bed, she paused to look at Ron a moment before touching her feet to the ground. It was cold, but not the same way the floor was in the dark place. With a breath, she slid the rest of her body off as well, putting her weight on her legs and feet, and almost falling over right away.

She pitched forward on the still strengthening limbs, but managed to find the wall with her hands before she crashed. Straightening up as much as she could, Hermione kept her hands on the wall for support as she took her intended steps. It took some time, but she managed to make her way to the door without falling or waking Ron. Once there, her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself looking through the cracked opening.

Light.

There was a faint glow somewhere out there.

Should she wake Ron? He'd know what to do.

But she didn't; instead, she cautiously touched her fingers to the door and the crack grew into an opening. She glanced nervously back at Ron's form once more before looking back into the tunnel of shadows, worrying her lip between her teeth.

A careful step, and another and then she was in it; in the tunnel. Her legs shook beneath her as she forced the cautious movements further into the unknown.

Her heart was pounding and her breaths were quick. There were squares on the wall with people in them. Were they watching her? Were they going to tell someone what she was doing? Maybe she should go back and pretend it never happened. Maybe she wouldn't get in trouble then.

But she continued on; for some reason she kept going until she found herself at the beginning of the stairs.

The glow was coming from down there, but now there was something else. A voice.

It felt familiar; sneaking and listening.

She grabbed the wooden rail with both hands and took the steps slowly, putting both feet on one before shakily moving to the next. By the time she reached the last one, Hermione was sweating, her muscles quivering from the labor; the likes of which had only been done while escaping the dungeon, and then she'd had Ron supporting her.

The voice was quiet now, for a moment she thought they'd gone but soon after there was a second one speaking now. The knowledge that there was more than one gave her heart a frightful jolt. She swallowed and looked back up the stairs, wondering if she could make it back up.

But she was so close.

The light was just around the corner; she just wanted to see the light.

X

* * *

X

Harry stared at the series of flames as he listened to what Remus was saying. He wasn't giving the man his full attention simply because he wasn't saying anything Harry didn't already know.

Yes, he was aware that Voldemort and his followers were growing stronger every day.

Yes, he was aware that every day spent at the cottage was a day they could be out working to stop him.

And yes, he was painfully aware that he wasn't helping Hermione or Ron by just sitting around without a plan.

He knew all these things; he didn't need them said to his face. He knew the werewolf meant well, but it irritated Harry that he didn't seem to understand Harry's position. So while he spoke these tired words to him, Harry had only watched the blue flames as they sat atop the small coffee table without burning it. He watched them and was reminded of his dear friend, of how easily Hermione had been able to conjure them up practically as long as he'd known her.

"Harry." The older man's voice forced his attention and the teen looked up at him. Finally relenting to him, Harry cleared his throat and tried to brainstorm.

"We need to think of places, or things, that mean something to him." He informed him, always careful that he didn't exactly divulge the mission bestowed upon him by the late headmaster.

"It's possible - "he halted his words immediately, his enhanced senses prickling with warning.

Raising his index finger to his lips, he motioned for Harry to remain silent as he slowly reached within his jacket for his wand. Harry looked in the direction Lupin's sharp gaze was pointed curiously. He'd been lucky enough to be able to rely heavily on the man's predator-like awareness of things. But they were in a safe place right now, there was no way that someone or something evil was waiting to pounce from the shadows. He meant to say this to the former professor, but before he had a chance the man moved.

Lupin stood and moved with a quick stealth before reaching around the corner and seemingly yanked their visitor from thin air. He wrapped a hand around her forearm and pulled her from the shadows; the sudden action mixed with her already overworked body being as feeble as it was, was more than enough to easily remove any semblance of balance she had, and Hermione fell to the floor at his feet.

Landing on her side, she instantaneously curled in on herself and covered her head for protection in the same moment that Harry sprang to his feet.

"Hermione!" he said her name in shock and quickly moved to her, sending a look at Remus who peered down at the girl with a look equal parts regret and confusion. "Put it away. Your wand, put it away."

"Harry…" Lupin tried to say as he tucked his wand away. He had to tell the boy.

But his friend's son waved a hand in his direction as if dismissing him completely. His entire focus on the young girl in front of him. Harry set a hand gently on her shaking shoulder and spoke softly to her.

"Hermoine, are you alright?" he asked in as smooth a tone as possible. He could see her peeking out from the crook of her elbow, her chest shuddering with her frightened breaths. "'Mione what are you doing out of bed so late?"

She looked at him a moment before glancing over toward the table Harry had recently sat before. She gazed at it a moment and then to Harry again. She recognized his face as the one in the book; the one the woman showed her.

"L-Light." She surprised him with her whispered response. Her voice shook as she answered him nervously, and then repeated herself. "Light."

Harry followed her line of sight and understood what she meant to say. He smiled down at her and spoke carefully.

"You saw the light?" he asked for assurance. "Ok. Let's go sit in the light a bit better, yeah?"

He waited a few moments for a reply before he took her silent looks towards the flames as answer enough. He slowly slid his hands under her and carefully applied the necessary strength, which wasn't much, to lift her to a seated position, and from there help her to her feet. Once she was standing, with her quaking arms wrapped around her torso, she wordlessly allowed him to help her to the couch he'd been sitting on. She didn't know him, but she knew Ron, and Ron wasn't afraid of him, so maybe she could try being ok with him too.

"There we are." Harry commented encouragingly, sitting her down on the cushions and lowering himself to sit beside her.

"Harry," Lupin spoke again, attempting to get the boys attention once more. "Harry, I need to speak with you a moment."

"A minute, please." Harry pleaded with the man who sighed and nodded, taking a few steps away but, Harry noticed, keeping the two in his sight.

Harry turned back to Hermione and saw her intently watching the flames before them. He gave her a small smile and spoke quietly.

"They're bluebell flames." He informed her, turning to look at the fire as well. "It's a neat little trick really; a fire that doesn't burn. Well, as long as you're not above it."

He grabbed a glass vase nearby and set the flowers aside before continuing to talk to her, all the while, keeping his eyes on the fires.

"You can pick it right up with your bare hand," he demonstrated, cupping a hand scooping one of the flames into his palm, and holding it for a moment, seeing its glow reflect in the brown eyes that watched him. "and put it wherever you like." He tipped the flame into the vase and held the glass up. "See? You try."

She watched the flame, now resting in the glass container in front of her with a new type of interest. When he nodded his head to the table, she then looked at one of the two remaining ones on the in front of her.

Hermione wrung her fingers for a few seconds before she reached forward cautiously. When her fingers came too close to it, she pulled back a bit. Harry gave her a small smile and lifted it himself, keeping his palm flat, holding it up for her. She watched it live on his hand a moment and then held her own hand, palm up in front of him. He smiled again and tiled his hand, transferring the small flame from him to her.

"There we are." He commented, his smile growing as he watched her watch it. A small smile slid across her lips as he looked at the enigma of holding a flame in her hand and not feeling burnt. Hermione passed the fire from one hand to the other and felt the odd sensation of the magic it carried. He enjoyed watching the moment, so much more than any recent memory he had with him.

After a few seconds, he held up the vase, indicating towards it with his head. She looked from the fire to him and upon realizing what he was requesting, she carefully moved her hand to allow the flame to slide into the glass. When it was in there, he collected all the bluebells and put them all in the vase with one another and set the furnishing down on the table in front of him.

"Does Ron know you're down here?" he asked, knowing how careful Ron was about her.

"Ron." She repeated his name and looked back over her shoulder in the direction she'd come. She glanced back at Harry and then closed her eyes a bit longer than a normal blink.

"He's sleeping?" Harry concluded as her intended message. "Good. He needs it. You both do."

He paused, swallowing a moment in attempt to determine how much he should say.

"You know I…I missed you very much." He confessed. "It was awful, thinking you were…" he cleared his throat. "…Not knowing where you were."

Hermione watched his face with a perplexed expression on her own. There was … something; something about the dark haired one in front of her. Something that tickled the back of her mind in a way that the picture didn't.

He spoke some more to her, but she didn't listen to what he said. Instead her attention went to his forehead when a slight movement of his head slid some hair away. Her focus was sucked in by the scar adorning his skin; the lightning bolt staring right back at her. Harry, all too familiar by now with people staring at the mark, gave her a grin when he realized what she found so fascinating.

"Yeah." He replied still grinning and moving more hair out of the way purposely. "That's still there."

She looked at it a few moments before moving her eyes back down to his. She seemed to think on something a moment before she raised her hand and moved it toward his face just as she'd done with Ron. But this time, she didn't reach for his hair for a touch of familiarity. Harry held himself still and calm as her fingertips slowly closed in on the scarred skin of his forehead.

Waiting patiently and allowing her the actions she took, he read her face and took notice of all the changes on it since he'd last seen her in Godric's Hollow so many months ago. Hermione was a breath from contact with his skin when Remus felt he had to make himself known again. Without giving a warning, he appeared beside the two friends; his hand clasping around the girl's wrist before she could touch Harry.

"Don't." he spoke, quiet enough not to wake the household but firm enough to be taken seriously.

Hermione's eyes widened at the man who held her hand so suddenly, and she gaped at him, frightened. Harry turned toward him, angry that the older wizard had shattered the bubble that had managed to form around the two of them. He was finally getting somewhere with her; she was connecting with him and Remus ruined it for no reason.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked upset. "Let go of her."

Remus did so after a moment of connecting eyes with the scared girl. She let out a whimper and, once her arm was free, pulled it to her chest and scooted her body to the farthest end of the couch; putting as much space as currently possible between her and the two of them.

Remus looked at her apologetically then turned to the furious young man, looking more like his father every day.

"What was that for?" he asked angrily. "You've scared her to death, you had no right."

"I'm sorry Harry." He apologized, his eyes flicking back to the girl once then returning. "I know she's your friend, but it had to be done."

"What had to be done?" he asked, his voice getting louder as he ignored the quiet surroundings of the house. "You had to grab her, right when she was feeling comfortable?"

"Harry, listen to me." Remus pleaded with the boy. "I know she's your friend, and you care about her a great deal, which will make what I must tell you that much harder to hear."

Harry swallowed, not a fan of the tone or look his former professor donned before him now.

"Let's have it then." He said, his voice losing some of the strength his anger gave it; now the fear crept inside it.

"Harry, when I knew someone was down here, I didn't just hear or smell them, I felt them." He began explaining. "I felt the magic, it's another part of the wolf; I sensed magic that wasn't from you or I."

"And?" he asked, urging his explanation.

"You have to know, I would never have manhandled Hermione like that, not in her condition; not ever." He excused. "I didn't know it was her because…because of what I felt."

Harry didn't respond, only furrowing his brow as he waited for the actual answer to make sense.

"It's the same reason we can't let her touch your scar; we can't let her come in contact with your connection to him."

"Because you sensed her magic?"

"Not her magic, Harry. Dark magic." He said regretfully, finally spitting it out and seeing the boy's eyes widen.

"Dark…" his voice failed him as he tried to understand what he'd been told. He looked over at his friend then back to Remus. "You're saying…"

"There's a dark magic about her, Harry." He told him sadly. "Evil magic; it radiates from her body."

"No." Harry shook his head. "That's impossible; it's Hermione, she's not-"

"Whatever it is that she was before, right now you have to trust me." He pleaded. "It's a magic I've only felt once before."

And without Remus having to say it, Harry knew what he meant. He knew where he'd felt that sort of darkness.

Voldemort.

**X**

**X**

* * *

**A/N:**

**I'm sorry this took so long to get to you guys….and that its soooo super long. I hope you don't mind but there really wasn't a place I wanted to cut it.**

**Anyway originally the Harry/Hermione interaction wasn't going to happen just yet, but I recently had a conversation with a good friend of mine who pointed out something that I'd never given much notice to before.**

**In her words, she told me while talking about DHpt2 **_**"Hermione's the only person who's never left him. When he's about to go to the woods to die, even though she'd just connected with the guy she loves, she still offered to go with him."**_

**Anyway, and what she said really struck me because it's true! And I wanted to get that amazing friendship back on track sooner rather than later. **

**Besides that, I know this wasn't the most eventful chapter in the world, but I really liked it and I hope you guys did to. If you didn't, I hope it pleases you to know that there is action-y stuff coming your way as well as a return to the hunt for some while others take a different journey.**

**Clue? Hint? See you next time!**


	20. I Miss You

**A/N: Hey, I'm back! I'm sorry I took so long to update this. No really, I'm sorry. Several things have happened lately and I won't bore you with them, especially since some of the happenings are quite in the realm of personal and I'm going to keep them that way. Point being, I tried to get this out much earlier this week but life doesn't always allow for my plans to work out nicely. Major apologies and I'll definitely try to never take so long again, but unfortunately I have no way to guarantee this to you. What I can guarantee is that if ever I do take so long to update, I will be just as sorry then as I am today.**

* * *

"_Where are you and I'm so sorry." –"I Miss You'_ by Blink 182

* * *

X

The moment Ron woke, he knew something was different than other mornings.

He stretched his arms over his head and opened his eyes, ignoring the crick in his neck from sleeping in the chair. Instead he looked where Hermione had been last night, but now wasn't. He leapt to his feet at the sight of the empty bed, his heart hammering fearfully in his chest.

"Hermione?" he called, going around the bed, looking in the corners where she'd often retreat. Her name left his lips again in a panic as he then checked the closet and under the bed.

Nowhere.

Fearing the worst, he fled the room and thundered down the cottage steps.

"Harry!" he called out. "Bill! Mum! Have you seen-"

His words cut off as he turned the corner and saw her sitting on the couch. It was a surreal moment to see her simply sitting on a couch. It was something so…ordinary

Her arms were crossed, resting atop her pulled up knees while she looked over at him. Before he knew what to say, his mother stormed over from where she'd been in the nearby kitchen area. Ron looked over and saw Fleur had also been in the cozy space as she now stood before a steaming pot glancing his way curiously. His mind briefly questioned whether it was breakfast she was making or more potions.

"What's the racket?" Molly asked with her hands on her hips, one of which held a dish towel. "What's wrong?"

Ron's breath released and he apologetically shook his head.

"Nothing. Sorry." He replied.

His mother's eyes softened as she turned them to the sitting girl and gently asked her.

"Still alright, dear?"

After a moment, the girl gave her a small nod and tiny smile, receiving one in return as the woman nodded and returned to the kitchen. Ron moved to follow her, intending to ask questions about what was going on.

Why had his mother retrieved Hermione from bed? Was she well enough to be doing so?

However, before he could pursue his mother, his attention was stolen with a word.

"Ron."

The young man looked to her and found Hermione glancing up at him. He gave his face a smile and lowered to sit near her on the couch. He made sure to keep some room between them just to be safe. As much as she seemed to trust him, a voice in his head continued to remind him not to take liberties.

"Morning." He greeted once he sat. "You sleep well?"

She only let the small smile she'd given his mother spread a bit more across her lips. She was clearly in a good mood this morning. He wondered what the cause was. Good dreams, possibly. Maybe it was being downstairs that cheered her up so. It made Ron wonder if it would be a good idea to maybe take her out of the cottage soon. Not very far, of course. But perhaps, Ron thought, she'd enjoy a short walk through the tall grass, a peaceful lounging on the sand. He wondered how she'd react to her bare feet being kissed by the ocean's tide.

"Did Mum get you from bed?" he asked. "She could've woke me too, instead of letting me get scared to death seeing you gone."

She watched him for a minute after and said his name again, this time with what he might call excitement. Anticipation?

"Ron." She straightened a bit and surprised him by even scooting closer.

He let out a quick chuckle at her behavior and couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah?" he asked, again wondering what it was that had her mood so clearly light. Did she possibly remember something? This scenario made Ron straighten as well. "What is it?"

She grinned a bit and put her hands on his arm. He watched her as she made the actions he knew to associate with her efforts to speak to him. He didn't rush it, instead giving her time to collect her thoughts and struggle through the task. He didn't have to wait long as it was only the first letter that seemed to strain her skills.

"D-Down." She spoke, just as much excitement in the word despite the extra efforts it took.

He smiled, only for the way she was acting since he really didn't know what she meant.

"Down?" he repeated, shaking his head and still smiling. "What's that mean?"

"Down." She said again, and then extended an arm to point behind him the way he came and stressed again. "Down!"

"Oh." He voiced. "Yeah, you're downstairs. It means you're getting better, you know, if Mum brought you down, she must think so.

Hermione listened to his response and gave herself a moment before continuing. She touched a hand to her chest.

"Hermynee."

Ron sighed at this. He was happy she was talking, that she was trying to communicate with him, but he didn't know how to continue the one word guessing games without getting frustrated. His smile faltered despite hers.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm not sure what you're saying." He confessed. "You're Hermione. You're downstairs."

His heart constricted as he saw her eyes fall a bit with disappointment. It wasn't her fault, he knew that. She didn't ask for any of it. She was doing her very best; _he_ was the one who needed to try harder to understand her. She bit her lip a moment before a thought seemed to come to her.

He touched her chest again, this time it was a measured, purposeful action as she spoke deliberately.

"Down." She spoke carefully, then pointed to his bustling mother and shook her head.

Ron took another moment to analyze the broken message.

"You're down…Mum's not?" he guessed, but as soon as the question left his mouth he knew exactly what she meant. "Mum didn't bring you down."

She smiled once again, returning to the excited demeanor of before. He nodded at her once more.

"Ok," he spoke, glancing around. "Who?"

She moved even closer and her smile grew as she touched her sternum.

"You came down by yourself?" he asked.

She nodded quickly this time and Ron digested what she'd said and found himself reacting before he could think to stop himself.

"You came down the stairs by yourself?" he clarified, his tone harsher than it had been moments ago. Hermione only nodded again, still too happy to notice his new intonation. He shook his head in response to her affirmation. "That's…That was _not_ smart Hermione. In fact it was pretty bloody stupid."

His words became sharper and his voice rose a bit. Hermione's excitement vanished and she pulled her hands from Ron as he stood up.

"Why would you do that?" he asked, standing over her. "You could've been hurt. You could've fallen and no one would've been there."

Hermione pushed her back into the cushions behind her as Ron towered over her angrily.

Molly came back once again finding Ron nearly shouting at the girl who tried to disappear into the couch under his intimidating stance.

"You have to be more careful." He admonished right before his mother appeared.

The woman forced herself into Ron's way, putting herself between the two.

"That is enough!" she stated sharply, meeting his eyes with her own fiery gaze.

Ron's chest moved up and down as he looked at his mother.

"Mum-"

"Not a word." She silenced him with her authoritative voice and pointed a finger at him. "I mean it Ronald. Not a word until you calm yourself and realize what it is you are doing."

"I know what I'm doing. I'm-"

"What you're doing," she interrupted quickly, as she grabbed his arm and marched him across the room. "…is acting like a brute for no reason and scaring an already terrified girl in the process."

"Did you help her downstairs?" he asked for clarification. Molly didn't understand why he asked the question but she answered nonetheless, hoping it would quell whatever the problem was with her son.

"No. She was on the couch when I came down this morning." She replied. "She was asleep, as were Harry on the floor and Remus in the chair. I assume one of them gave her a hand."

"They didn't." he spat. "She told me she came down on her own."

"On her own?" Molly repeated surprised.

"Yes, and she could've been hurt." He continued. "She could-"

This time what silenced him wasn't his mother's voice; it was her hand coming across his arm in a hard smack.

"Ow!" he voiced in shock. "What was that for?"

"Ronald Weasley, it's because now I know why the poor girl has been in such a mood all morning. She's accomplished something and is proud of it. Rightfully so." She spelled it out for him. "She shared it with you and you've turned it! How's she to know now that what she's done is something she most certainly _should_ take pride in?"

Ron's face softened and he spoke quietly.

"I want her to be careful."

"And there's no way to tell her that without frightening her?" she asked.

"I'm sorry." Ron apologized genuinely feeling like an ass now.

"Don't apologize to me." She demanded. "But count yourself luck your father had to go to the Burrow this morning."

Ron didn't tell her he would have preferred his father. Between the two of his parents, there was no doubt that his mother was a far scarier disciplinarian. He watched the woman return to the kitchen where Fleur stood watching him yet again, this time with a look of disappointment on her face.

He sighed and returned to Hermione, lowering to sit once again. This time he noticed she pulled aside, making sure to put more space between them. He folded his hands together between his legs and looked down at them. He thought about how excited she'd been when talking to him just moments ago. Now he knew it wasn't just simple excitement, it was as his mother said: pride. She was proud of what she'd done and assumed he would be too.

He sighed and leaned back against the seat, his shoulders slumped with the weight that accompanied his thoughts. Ron was proud of her steps towards recovery, he really was, but he couldn't help his initial reaction. After seeing her so broken, he could never go without worrying about her again. He cleared his throat in preparation.

"Listen, um," he began, not yet looking her way, his eyes still on his own hands. "I shouldn't have acted like I did. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

She looked down.

Her eyes burned and her throat hurt like there was something stuck in it. Ron was mad.

He was mad and she made him that way. He didn't like what she did. She thought he'd smile but he didn't.

She jumped a bit when he made a rumbling sound and then spoke. His voice was different this time. It didn't sound mad anymore, just upset. It didn't feel any better.

He was upset because of her. Her throat hurt more and she wondered if she could say something to make it ok again. She'd do better for him. She wouldn't go down anymore. She'd stay in the room. That's what he wanted.

She remembered the man last night was upset too. He didn't want her out of the room either. HE didn't want her by the boy with the dark hair.

So she'd stay where they all wanted her. That way no one would get upset again.

"I'm sorry." Ron spoke to her again.

She looked over at him when he said those words, he looked sad.

Ron moved his hand wanting to lay it over hers but changing his mind. His fingers curled into his palm and he brought it to his lap.

"I'm sorry I scared you." He continued. "I just worry, you know. I don't want you to get hurt."

He paused a moment and rubbed his hands together. He let out a breath and looked up at her with a small grin.

"It was good, Hermione…what you did. It's good that you're getting better and doing things. Just be careful, ok? I _need_ you to be careful."

Hermione watched him a moment, taking in what he said before scooting herself the smallest bit closer and carefully reaching her hand out. Her eyes danced from his hand to his face before she slowly covered the freckled one with her own. Ron turned his palm over to her and waited until she closed her fingers around his before doing the same. He knew it would be like this for a long time, possibly forever. He would always have to wait for her to set the tone for what was ok. He couldn't initiate any physical aspects until she did so first. He couldn't touch her until she touched him.

He felt his heartbeat quicken and a warm blush creep on his skin at the wording of the thought. The idea of touching her springing on him…of her touching him. He couldn't think that way, he knew he couldn't…not right now.

Swallowing hard, he rubbed his thumb over the pale skin on the back of her hand and allowed what he knew to be right to reclaim control of his body despite its sudden desire to respond physically to those thoughts. He let out a breath and looked in her eyes and suddenly it was what it was supposed to be again. It was untainted and genuine. It was him holding her hand, her holding his, without any need to go further.

X

* * *

X

Harry stood outside on the beach. He could see Remus not far off staring out at the water and knew without needing to be told that his mind was on his family. His wife and new son.

It was a long, heated discussion deep into the night about what Remus apparently "sensed" about Hermione. But for all the explanation on Remus' behalf of what he felt, they had no answers as to why.

Story of his life, it seemed…having no answers.

On top of it all, he knew he had to find a way to broach the subject with Ron. His quick tempered friend would certainly not react well to the words and Harry couldn't, and wouldn't, blame him in the slightest. His mind was on this scenario when he heard someone apparate to the property.

Even though he knew Arthur had left for the Burrow that morning with plans to return, he still acted on reflex. Pulling out his wand and spinning around to the source of the sound, ready to fight.

Just as he should have known, Arthur Weasley was now in front of the cottage. In the man's arms were a suitcase and a crate-like box Harry couldn't decipher from where he stood. But what made his breath halt and his heart leap was the fact that he was not alone.

His mouth went dry and his feet slowly moved forward as if moving too quickly would frighten the image away. The two people approached the door after passing some words between one another. When he realized they were about to disappear inside, Harry forced his voice to life.

"Ginny?" he half called, half questioned as a part of him couldn't trust what his eyes were seeing.

The pair of redheads turned his way…and there it was.

Her face. He saw it now and felt his breath stolen again, just as she'd done to him many times over.

Getting confirmation that she was really there, the shock left his body and he moved quicker. Her voice called his own name, reaching his ears like a melody and she ran in his direction. The younger girl crashed into him, instantly wrapping her arms around his neck, holding on tightly just as he did with her.

Harry embraced her, forgetting all the reasons and excuses he'd previously come up with for why they could never really be. Instead all that consumed him was the feel of her smaller body against his and the scent of her hair that invaded his every breath. The flowery scent that wafted to him out of the amortentia.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without loosening his grip.

It was Ginny who pulled back so she could look at him as she answered.

"I've been home since Easter. Dad's just come to get me, he says it's safer here now, but wouldn't say anything else."

"You left Hogwarts?" he asked curiously and she nodded.

"Oh Harry it's awful. It's nothing like it was before Dumbledore was…" she paused, still having difficulty saying the words and stating it as true. Harry swallowed, understanding exactly how she felt.

"Harry?" she began to ask nervously. "Harry is it true? Is Hermione…is she really here?"

Harry nodded and cleared his throat.

"Ron…found her and he brought her here." He answered, hesitating with the words of explanation. "She's been…recovering."

The girl nodded, catching what he meant in the words he didn't say.

"How bad?" she asked tentatively.

X

* * *

X

Ron greeted his father always happy to see the man. The two Weasley men exchanged a few words which included Ron questioning exactly what it was that Arthur felt the need to get. His father answered with a vague response of "A few things that need safer keeping."

Before Ron could ask for more specifics, the elder man lowered the crate he'd held under his arm to the ground and Ron watched with a surprised expression at the emergence of the flat faced cat he'd always had a ready insult for. Crookshanks mewed once as he stretched and seemed to throw a disgruntled look behind him at the man who'd put him in the box.

Ron had to keep from grimacing at the ugly animal when it looked his way as well. The half-kneazle glanced around the new surroundings a moment before spotting his owner. Hermione had been watching the furry creature with interest. She jumped a bit when her familiar suddenly leapt onto the couch and began walking over to her. Though still wary of the strange new creature, she did nothing to stop his approach nor did she give any sign that Ron would need to step in and save her from the animal he detested.

She tightened on herself a bit when Crookshanks reached her and rubbed his ginger head against her, showing his affection while simultaneously requesting some from her. The unusual sensation of the small head on her person and its tickling fur on her skin made her crack a smile and, to the delight of all spectators, a small giggle escaped.

Ron watched everything with a swell in his heart. Even though he never had- and most likely never would- necessarily like the irritating ball of fur, it was plain as day to everyone that the unsightly cat meant a lot to Hermione. She loved the cat for some reason Ron would never try to understand. But if it made her happy when there was so little happiness to come across, by Merlin if it made her _laugh_, he would put up with the miserable thing for the rest of his life without a word of complaint.

Another giggle came from her and Ron happened to see that his mother and Fleur had come in the room at some point and were watching the scene with the same happiness on their faces that Ron was feeling within. His mother even had the shine of tears threatening her eyes.

Molly volunteered her voice as she stepped closer to the couch when no one else spoke. Everyone was far too busy watching the enchanting scene, the cat continuously nuzzling and rubbing against the girl with an occasional meow. It seemed he was demanding the attention she'd normally give to him but, for some reason the animal couldn't comprehend, was not at the moment.

"That's Crookshanks." Molly told the girl, who looked away from the cat when she spoke.

Molly smiled at the look readable in the girl's eyes and then sat on the opposite side of the cat. The girl giggled again when he put the cold pads of his front paws on her arm. With another smile on her face, Molly slid her fingers through the through the fur on the animal's head, scratching his skull while she did so.

"Like this." She said as she continued to pet the familiar.

The woman continued to speak soft instructions until Hermione began mimicking the actions. Soon after she started giving him what he was waiting for, Crookshanks climbed into her lap and kneaded his paws on her thighs a few moments before curling into a ball and sitting contentedly on his long missed owner. Hermione also seemed to have found a new sense of calm in feeling the weight of the animal in her lap.

X

* * *

X

It wasn't long later that Hermione found, yet another new occurrence happening.

First she met someone else with the same color hair as Ron, this one also a girl though considerably younger. Ginny's reintroduction to her best friend went smoother than any of the others; the young witch was too influenced by the company of the yellow eyed cat to be afraid of her.

Ginny spoke with a gently assurance and warming smiles. Her conversation, travelling from Hermione to the family around her, led them to where they were now. A new occurrence.

Hermione looked around the small room from where she sat with most of her body submerged under the warm water of the tub. Ginny and her mother had been as gentle as they could with both actions and explanations leading up to getting the girl into the bath. Sure, Ginny pointed out, cleansing charms did the job but they could never really match up to how refreshing an actual bath felt.

Despite the women's best efforts to clarify what was happening to the girl, she had still been dreadfully nervous, jumping when the faucet was brought to life with a rush of water. But what was the most painful for them to witness…what drove the reality of her dear friend's situation straight to Ginny's heart, was the way the girl's eyes widened with ready tears when they first attempted to remove her clothes from her person. Hermione whimpered and shook her head, clutching her hands to the loose fabric of the borrowed clothes and holding them tightly against her body.

They tried to calm her and assure her no harm would come to her even as their own tears sprung to life at witnessing her reaction, but Hermione fervently shook her head and cried. Ginny's heart broke at the sight of her always strong friend breaking apart in front of her, even hearing her brother's name fall from her crying lips a few times.

Ron had reluctantly allowed them to take Hermione to have a bath, knowing he wouldn't be the one in there with her. As much as he hated to not be at her side, he knew it wouldn't be appropriate…and she was having such a good day he only assumed it would continue. It was nearly fifteen minutes of careful one-sided dialogue before Hermione let Ginny put her hand in the water to feel it. Another ten after that and Hermione was shakily allowing Molly undress her while Ginny cast a discreet heating charm over the tub water that had grown colder in the time they'd spent talking.

Ginny gasped upon seeing the scars and wounds on Hermione's body and looked away to keep her distress from being observed. The women helped her into the water, feeling her hands tighten around theirs and hissing as the water touched the affected areas, still sensitive and some still not completely healed.

Using the water to lessen the sting of it, Molly carefully removed the now wet bandages from the worst of the injuries. The carvings in her skin made from the crazed woman were still appeared relatively fresh. After a few minutes, Molly asked if Ginny would be alright on her own for a few moments and excused herself to have a conversation with Arthur.

While alone, Ginny looked over the girl in the water and found that she was staring at her own arm curiously. Ginny scooted further to the end of where she sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat and stretched her neck in attempt to see what it was about Hermione's arm that seemed to fascinate her so.

"What is it, Hermione?" she asked quietly.

Hermione only continued to look at the skin of her forearm, her brow furrowed as if attempting to puzzle out a complex problem. Ginny now stood; her curiosity peaked and stepped closer, kneeling beside the tub.

"Hermione?"

The girl looked over to her now and the water sloshed a bit as she adjusted her position and turned towards her. She held out her arm for the youngest Weasley.

"Read?" her voice caught her company off guard.

"What?" Ginny asked, and Hermione only stretched her arm out, displaying what she was so focused on to Ginny.

"Read." She requested once again.

Ginerva Weasley let her eyes run over the red slashes on her forearm, reading over what the marks came together to spell. She shook her head side to side and stood up suddenly taking a step back. Disgust and anger running through her veins.

"No." she stated simply, not missing the confused look that came over the other girl's face.

"Read." She asked of her again, this time sounding more pleading as she jabbed her arm in her general direction for emphasis.

"Hermione, I can't." Ginny shook her head again. "I'm sorry, but I won't."

Hermione slowly pulled her arm back to herself and looked down at it, wondering why the girl wouldn't read for her. Ron would read to her and she was like Ron.

Ginny saw the sadness in the girl's demeanor as she continued to stare at the offensive word marked into her skin. She could see the concentration as her lips intermittently moved without any sound escaping. Ginny knew, as she watched her that she was attempting to figure it out for herself. After a few moments of this attempts, Hermione let out a groan and slammed her arm down against the water's surface, breaking it and sinking under with a splash.

Ginny didn't doubt she felt a failure without being able to answer her own question, and it was painful for the redhead to witness. So against her better judgment, Ginny returned to the side of the porcelain fixture and held out her hand. When Hermione saw this, she moved her dripping limb and let it rest in the girl's palm. Ginny looked down at it, squeezing her eyes shut once, praying that by some miracle it would be something else when she opened them again. But it wasn't, and she finally forced herself to speak with a sigh.

"It says…" she touched her finger to it, half expecting it to burn her when she did. "…Mudblood."

She flicked her eyes up to Hermione once more.

"It's a foul word, Hermione." She told her. "It's something that should never be said to anyone, least of all you. It's a hateful word from hateful people who don't understand right and wrong."

Hermione looked down at her arm after hearing Ginny's words, touching her own finger to it as Ginny rose and turned to get the towel. Reaching for the soft white linen, her hand froze when she heard the unexpected speech behind her.

"Nnot so sm-smart nnow, are you mmudbl-blood?"

Ginny's heart froze over and she slowly turned around, her hand clenching the towel. Her voice coming out a whisper as she asked Hermione.

"What did you say?" Hermione was still examining the marks on her arm, touching them with a careful finger. She called her name again, to get her to look at her. "Hermione? What did you say?"

"Not so smmart nnow, are you…mmudbblood."

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

**A/N: So in reality I have no idea where Crookshanks was during the horcrux adventure. I figure it makes sense that he was either left at the burrow with the weasley's or with her parents…just cause they didn't remember having a daughter doesn't mean they can't have a kitty cat. I'm sure there's a mention of it in the book somewhere, but I no longer have a copy. I honestly have no idea where it went. I had it before PT 1 came out, I reread it in prep for the movie, but I have no idea where it is now and it's more than a little annoying. Anyway, hope you guys liked this….and oooh, what's gonna happen next?**


	21. Tourniquet

**A/N: A few things I want to say before getting into the chapter here.**

**#1…Big old apologies for the wait, especially to **_rhmac12 _**to whom I promised an update would be posted on Monday. I genuinely hoped and planned to, but life always seems to be against me, especially this week has been pretty rough. My father discovered he has diabetes while my younger brother discovered his recurring headaches are caused by Reversible Cerebral Vasoconstriction Syndrome (RCVS), basically an artery along the base of his brainstem/beginning of his spinal cord is spasming. It's treatable, but stressful anyway seeing as it can cause a stroke if he isn't careful.**

**#2…I got a review for the last chapter from an anonymous reader apparently called "**_A Person_**" that stated that the way I wrote Hermione was childish. Without an account to respond to and possibly open a discussion (which I love doing. I LOVE talking over stuff and hearing peoples thoughts) I will respond very quickly to that right here with a simple response. **_"Yes. She is."_

**And finally…something I totally meant to place in the last update but forgot. Everyone should check out the AMAZING banner **_BeBlessed _**made for this story! I love it and want all of you to check it out!**

**/ s1205. / albums / bb422 / BeBlessed1 / ?action=view¤t= **(Remove the spaces or just search BeBlessed1 at photobucket)

XX

* * *

**Alright, guess I'll let you get to it now and lead you in with the info that nearly this entire chapter is a flashback but it bothered me to have so much italic together in one chapter so it's in regular font. So hopefully there's no confusion about that.**

**Onward…**

XX

* * *

"_I'm dying, praying, bleeding, screaming_

_Am I too lost to be saved? Am I too lost?" _

–'_Tourniquet'_ by Evanescence

* * *

XX

She sat in the corner of the dark room, her muscles aching. No, not aching, that wasn't the word for it. Screaming seemed more accurate a description for what her body was feeling. The freezing atmosphere made her shiver despite the burning sensation of pain that she had become accustomed to. She ran a dirty hand across her forehead, making note of the sweat that was beaded there.

Hermione knew she was getting ill; it didn't surprise her. The temperature, the degree of food, the abuse...of course her body wouldn't be reacting well to what seemed to be her new life. She carefully lifted the hem of her disgusting shirt. The shadows of the cell didn't allow for the best view, but Hermione didn't need it to know what was there. She'd seen it after it happened; after that psychopath finished dragging the blade through her skin.

It made her nauseous.

She was branded…_owned._

The initials of that despicable woman would forever be there. She brought her shaking hand toward her abdomen. Biting her lip, she gingerly touched the wound; pulling away immediately as she barely kept a cry of pain down to a small gasp. Tears fell from her eyes as she lowered the shirt once more. It hurt. It hurt _so_ much. There was nothing on her, no part of her body that was in some form of pain.

But at least….at least if she focused on the cuts and bruises and scars, if she thought about that pain she wouldn't be thinking about the other. She had to keep her mind from resting on the deep, burning throbs that pulsed from within her. Yesterday had been _that_ day again.

At least she thought it had been yesterday for she had no idea how long she'd slept since returning. But she knew what happened after the room had cleared of Voldemort and his Death Eaters; many of his followers mockingly stepping over her as if she were a rug on the hard floor; a few made sure to get a few "accidental" kicks on her person as they did. She remembered hearing her "owner's" voice speaking to someone she didn't see and then…and then she was taken to the room again and-

No.

She shook her head; she wouldn't think about it. She had to focus; today was it. It was the day she would finally execute and escape plan. No more waiting to feel any better or stronger; each day only brought her condition to a worse level than the day before. Now or never.

The chance would come, it had to, and then she would move. She'd get out or die trying.

Almost as if it had been waiting for a cue, she heard someone coming. Her heart sped up and she felt the quivering in her body increase, having absolutely nothing to do with the cold. Every time she tried to tell herself that there wasn't anything they could do that they hadn't already done to her, she was proved wrong.

She shook her head again, sliding her filthy hands into her hair on either side of her head and held it tightly. She had to focus. They hadn't destroyed her…hadn't broken her. She would get away; get back to Harry and...

Ron.

An image of a crooked grin flew across her mind; of a warm hand holding hers for comfort in the intimidating darkness of Grimmauld Place. A memory of awkward footsteps trying to stay in rhythm with the melody of the wedding music came to her.

She had to get back to him. She needed to see him again and say all the words she'd always been afraid to speak. She would tell him that it was the thought of him that had kept her from cracking and going mad under all the pain and embarrassment they bestowed upon her.

The footsteps came closer and she could tell it wasn't _her._ There was only one other person who came. Rising on shaking legs, she went to unsteadily went to stand flat against the wall beside the door. A moment later it opened and she held her breath as she saw the light fill the room, the open door hiding her.

"Granger?" the voice asked, confused that she was nowhere to be seen right away.

She heard the sound of the tray being set down near the door as Draco took a few steps further into the cell; his wand alight as he moved to inspect the still shadowy corners. Hermione was silent as possible, creeping out from the door moving towards the entryway. She thought a moment about grabbing the tray; contemplating if she'd be able to strike him hard enough with it to either knock him out or at least disorient him enough to allow her to grab his wand. But in the end she decided she didn't want to risk it with her depleted strength. She continued moving until she was completely in the entrance.

Draco turned around quickly as soon as he noticed the strange shadow casting its way of the lit area of the room. Before he could really register what was going on, Hermione pulled with all her strength and closed the door with a clang.

Her heart thundered as adrenaline coursed through her veins, hiding her immense pains from her mind. She knew she would need to get her hands on a wand if she wanted to get somewhere far away quickly. But for now she'd focus on getting out of the manor unnoticed. If she had an opportunity to get one she most certainly would. At present moment, her dilemma involved deciding which way to go.

Recalling what direction she thought she heard the footsteps coming from, Hermione chose that way and went. She moved down the corridor after choosing a direction. The stone was freezing beneath her feet but that wasn't what made her freeze in place.

Hermione stopped so suddenly she almost lost her balance. Footsteps…and not just one person either. She immediately stepped into an alcove, hoping to remain hidden until they passed. As they came closer, the voices became clearer and the young witch had to clamp her dry lips shut to keep the frightened whimper from escaping.

Bellatrix.

She couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but she heard a response as the two were almost directly in front of her.

"Do not presume to order me about in my own house." The normally smooth drawl of the Malfoy patriarch sounded clipped and irritated.

"I'll do as I please Lucius, be it your house or any other." She replied. "The Dark Lord has not cast me out of his favor, unlike some."

At this they stopped, the man grabbing her arm and halting her. Hermione held her breath; the smallest sound could give her away.

"Don't be arrogant." He warned. "Being charged with the keeping of a mudblood is hardly a grand honor, Bellatrix."

"Whatever our lord requests of me is indeed an honor." She replied with a hiss as if she were offended by his words. "Be it the mudblood or the use of my vault-"

Hermione felt her heart jump suddenly. Her vault? She mentioned him using her vault.

Voldemort was using the LeStrange vault.

A horcrux! It had to be. What else would be so important to have locked away in a place notorious for being impossible to break into?

She had to get out; she had to tell Harry. Something good could be taken away from the nightmare she'd been living; something helpful. She was so consumed in her deduction that she hadn't noticed the woman stopped talking until she saw her look down the way Hermione had come from. Had she made a noise? No. Surely if she had, the woman wouldn't be casting her eyes in that direction, she'd be looking into the shadows Hermione currently hid within. Nevertheless, Hermione desperately tried to remain absolutely still and silent. It was a few more moments before the female death eater smirked and returned to the conversation.

"This discussion is over." She informed him.

Finally the steps resumed and Hermione carefully released the breath that had been burning in her chest since she first heard them approach; her head feeling light and dizzy. She put a hand to her sweaty forehead until the world steadied around her and then stepped out cautiously and turning to go in the direction they'd come from.

She'd only gone a few steps when she felt a sudden jolt slam painfully into her back. The force of it caused the oxygen to rush from her lungs, leaving her no air to even cry out in pain as she hit the hard ground beneath her. Her adrenaline vanished along with her breath and she was suddenly reminded of every single ounce of pain and weakness residing in her body. Hermione was trying to catch her breath when a voice came to her blood rushed ears.

She couldn't tell what was being said at first, but she knew the voice…knew it was angry. She let her forehead lay on the cold floor while pressing her palms against it in an attempt to rise. Before any progress could be made, a boot was purposefully lowered onto the back of her hand, the weight slowly increasing as did the pain; the stress was surely enough to break the delicate bones beneath it.

"Think you're clever, do you?" she heard while the pressure on her hand increased. Her tormentor adjusted nearly all her body weight to be on that foot as she leaned down and grabbed a fistful of dirty curls on the back of her head.

_Not anymore. No more. God, help._

Hermione was more than ready to start crying again. Why hadn't she waited longer before stepping out? Why couldn't she have made sure she was waiting?

"Ickle mudblood thinks she's so smart." Bellatrix noted with a cynical tone. "You like listening to other people conversations, hmm? Hearin' all sorts of juicy secrets?"

When Hermione didn't respond, she pulled on her hair and screamed in her ear.

"Do you?" Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears slip out of the corners when the mad woman's voice screeched again. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing." She gasped out. "I didn't hear anything."

"I don't believe you." She said in an angry whisper.

She was beyond angry at the girl. Not only had she managed to escape her cell – something that Lucius was more than happy to skip away and inform the Dark Lord about in order to see Bellatrix punished – but knowing she had heard her mention his use of their vault…she was absolutely livid.

With a snarl, she lowered even further, now basically lying on her prisoner, her one hand still holding tightly to the mass of hair, her elbow digging into her back as she forced the girl's head back at an achingly arched position. With her free hand, she pressed her wand into her cheek, digging it into her skin harshly and repeating herself slowly.

"What did you hear?"

When Hermione still didn't answer, the older witch moved the wand to the hand still under her boot, though with far less weight now. Without a warning, Bellatrix flicked it once and synonymously, the broken nail on the slender index finger was ripped away. Hermione screamed out, not expecting the action or the pain it caused her already breaking body, and tried to pull her hand away. Bellatrix pressed her foot down, telling her that it was staying where it was. She moved her wand to the next finger.

"What did you hear?" she asked quietly but quickly followed it with a shout that only made Hermione cry harder. "Tell me!"

XX

* * *

XX

Blinking several times as she came around once again, Hermione found herself once again in that damn room. Her chest shuddered when her mind registered that she wasn't lying on the ground this time; instead she was suspended, her arms above her head with her wrists clamped in manacles that felt too small for her. She flexed her numbing hands, feeling the tightness of the dried blood that coated her fingers; the nails having been ripped away one at a time, flick by excruciating flick of the mad woman's wand.

Hermione didn't know at which finger she'd thrown up on the floor, making a mess right near where her face was pressed, but soon after she'd passed out.

She had no idea how long ago that had been and she was absolutely terrified of what was coming next. The last time she'd been in this position had been when Bellatrix was slicing her initials into her. If that was just for her pleasure, what would she do to her now that she was actually angry? She would surely kill her this time.

Hermione found herself suppressing a bubble of laughter at the thought of dying. It was a welcome direction. Maybe she really had gone insane; laughing at the thought of her impending death. What would they think of her like this?

It felt like hours had passed in the frozen silence before she finally heard someone coming. The door opened and Hermione's mouth went desert dry.

Voldemort.

He glided in, Bellatrix a cowering figure behind him. Seeing the state of the woman made Hermione suddenly think of Draco; how badly he would be or already was punished for what she did. She felt somewhat guilty at the thought. But any thought of him or anyone else left her as the red eyed demon approached her silently.

Her breathing became labored; she half expected him to demand she "prove her magical worth" again. She hoped Harry would fare much better than she when it was time to face the cruel wizard. After the terrifying silence, he spoke in his breathy, intimidating voice.

"You've been sneaking about mudblood." He noted. "I'm told you've heard some…sensitive information."

Hermione didn't respond, only tried to avoid his bloody eyes. She closed her eyes and turned her face into her arm. Almost right away she felt an ice cold hand grasp her chin and force her to look ahead.

"Have you had any communication with the Order?" he asked her.

"Would I still be here, if I was?" she asked suddenly, having no idea where the response came from but she immediately regretted it as he made a show of pulling out his wand and holding it between them. After gauging her response, he spoke once again.

"I won't kill you today, mudblood." He informed her. "Not before Potter sees what's become of you."

Before she could question what he meant he spoke, a phrase she didn't recognize and his wand tip began to glow a bright red and she could feel the heat radiating off of it. She remembered Lupin's warning to them long ago that they would be dealing with dark magics they'd never seen before. Bellatrix stood taller and stretched her neck to watch. Hermione began to shake in fear as he moved the weapon, holding it just away from her temple where she immediately began to sweat.

He gave her what could pass as a smile on a normal person.

"Goodbye, mudblood."

He pressed the wand into her skin and she instantly started screaming. The pain was more intense and invasive then anything she'd ever experienced. She screamed her throat raw as the wand scorched her, starting at her temple the burn seemed to travel through her entire body. It was acid in her veins, it was volcanic…it was hellfire.

A barbed rope of flames coiled around something within her and with a final burst of violence, ripped itself out; taking with it a stolen treasure as the girl stopped screaming and went completely limp. Her head fell forward once the creature removed his wand.

Voldemort smirked slightly at the image before him and waved his wand, no longer glowing, to vanish the restraints. Without them, the girl fell to the floor, nothing but dead weight. He tilted his head a bit, inspecting the crumpled heap.

"Has it worked My Lord?" Bellatrix whispered, daring to step closer and stand behind him.

"Rennervate." He said in an almost bored tone.

The still life woke with a loud gasp, the limbs maneuvering with minute strength until they were no longer tangled amongst themselves; instead she lay flat on her back looking upwards. He studied the empty eyes a moment, his crimson ones travelling to the fresh mark left where his wand had been pressed, it was a painful looking red color, still burning it its freshness. He knew it was only the absolute lack of strength left within the girl that kept her from crying out in the unbearable pain that still lingered from the old spell.

"The wand." He spoke, holding a hand out, palm up, without taking his gaze from the confused one before him that slowly began to cloud with pain.

Without a word spoken, his loyal follower put the object in his hand. The dark wizard dropped it on the floor, watching it clatter and roll towards its owner. Those murky eyes glanced at it before a filthy hand slowly grabbed for it. The death eater and her Lord watched the pitiful creature grab hold of the wand and drag it to her face, looking at it with a furrowed brow.

Voldemort scoffed at the pathetic thing; it held the wrong end of the wand.

It was all the confirmation he needed to know that it had worked perfectly. HE stood up straighter, turning around to leave.

"You have been spared the consequences of a deadly mistake, Bellatrix."

"I'm most grateful, My Lord." She bowed her head, knowing the torture curse she'd received for what happened was a small price compared to what she could have paid. "You are most generous."

"It would seem." He agreed. "Do not fail me again. I have no wish to return to this place of filth."

"Of course, My Lord."

He moved by her, speaking as he passed.

"The arrangement stands," he instructed. "The day after tomorrow shall be as it has been in the weeks passed."

She nodded her lowered head once more. The moment he was gone from the room, so was the woman's passive attitude. She walked in slow steps toward her prisoner, whose hand seemed to have grown too weary and lost her hold on the precious wand. The woman summoned it to her own hand and sneered down at the young witch that had caused her so much trouble that day.

"Not so smart now, are you mudblood?"


	22. 300 MPH Torrential Outpour Blues

**A/N: Before anything else I want to thank everyone for their kind words regarding my family's health. I appreciate it so much, guys. Thank You! **

**Things won't be calming down here until probably about December/January. Trips and visitors and such so as much as I hate it there will probably continue to be a fair distance between updates until everything settles down. Sorry everyone!**

**Lastly I want to address something a reviewer noticed. A giant kudos to **_sksprinter259_**. I'm glad you noticed that she says **_"God"_** rather than **_"Merlin"_** and it's just as you said. She was raised muggle and while living in the wizard world for most of the year, every year, I don't realistically see her changing **_**that**_**. Weasleys says Merlin, Hermione says God. Good catch!**

* * *

"_Well, there's three people in my head that have the answer_

_And one of them's got to be you." _

'_300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues'_ by The White Stripes

* * *

X

Rain was coming down, penetrating the waters that gradually roughened as the storm progressed, and hitting the small cottage to create a constant hum for the occupants to hear. As it fell Ron sat at the bedside of his dear friend, letting that hum be the only sound in the room save for the slow breaths of sleep.

His eyes travelled her sleeping form. The worsening weather had darkened the sky prematurely and it wasn't quite as late as the shadows made it seem. Regardless of the time, however, she'd fallen asleep hard and heavy. She'd exhausted herself that day so much so that she'd slipped into slumber before she could be given nightly dreamless draught. He worried the outcome of this, and wondered if he should try giving it to her while she slept. But instead he just watched her peaceful face and thought, if she were finally having a decent dream, who was he to chase it away.

Hermione slept facing him and Ron was hypnotized by her still face. It was relaxed and innocent and it called to him; to touch, to caress, and to kiss.

He let out a sigh, moving his eyes to the fluffy bed partner that had taken it upon himself to curl up beside her. Crookshanks was balled up near her chest, but Ron could see he wasn't asleep. A pair of glowing eyes were present and trained upon the young wizard, giving Ron the distinct impression the menace wasn't merely lying with his owner. He was keeping watch.

It made Ron smirk and actually want to pet his head or show some equal sign of approval and appreciation to the creature.

"Ron." He heard a voice whisper and he instantly turned his head to see his sister's head sticking in the room. "Is everything alright? You've been a while."

Ron felt a heated blush come to his ears and was thankful for the mostly shadowed room. He'd only come to check on her and ended up sitting there for …he had no idea how long.

"Fine." He answered. "I'm coming."

He let out another quick sigh and returned his gaze to her once more. He licked his lips and reached out to lay a hand over hers carefully. He hoped it wouldn't startle her, but he just couldn't resist the call. As his arm moved, he noticed Crookshanks raise his head, watching him apprehensively. He carefully put his hand over hers and felt it twitch beneath him. But she didn't scream, or pull away and cower. He could only assume she was far too gone in the world of sleep to completely come out over his touch.

To his amazement, after the initial spasm in her hand, he actually felt her hand close around his. She may as well have been holding his heart in her slender hand. He looked to her face and was again surprised when he saw her eyes were open. Ron's breath caught in his throat while he held her eyes in the dark. In that dark, he could almost convince himself she wasn't any different. It was just as it had been in Grimmauld as they whispered to one another in the dark living room.

Her fear of the journey before them was evident in her voice despite her attempts to cloak it. Had she known back then that something would happen to her? Did she have some sort of ominous feeling other than a general worry for what they were about to attempt?

He knew he hadn't really registered the immensity of all the dangers before them. Even after what happened at the wedding, and then the coffee shop, he'd never really considered that something would happen to them. Not like this.

It had always been dangerous hadn't it? All through school he was told the things they'd faced and done were dangerous... and they'd always come away alright, hadn't they? The worst of it had been the Ministry disaster fifth year, but they'd still come away. A bit worse for wear, but after a short stay in the infirmary it was over.

Ron supposed that's what he'd expected with this as well. Narrow escapes and a scrape here and there until Harry would finally face down You-Know-Who and it would all be over.

But Hermione had always been more logical…more realistic. She knew what he hadn't accepted at the time, and she'd seen it firsthand.

"Hermione," he whispered her name, lowering his head a bit. A better look showed him her eyelids were trying to fall back down. "I'm sorry."

He intended to apologize for waking her, but as he said the words he already knew they were heavier than just that.

She looked at him with sleepy eyes and he felt her hand begin to relax a bit and then squeeze lightly again. It told him she was falling back asleep, or more accurately her body was while she fought it. He smiled slightly and gave her loosening hand a squeeze back.

"It's ok." He whispered. "Go back to sleep. It's alright."

She adjusted a bit, getting a quiet noise of protest when her movements jostled Crookshanks.

"Ron." Her voice was thick with burdening exhaustion, sounding even slower than usual.

"Yeah." He replied, unsure if she was asking him something or just assuring herself of who was with her.

He watched purposely as her lips parted to say something more, but he'd never know what it was for she succumbed to the pull of slumber. Her head lolled and her hand completely relaxed in his. He watched her a moment more before Crookshanks, who'd settled once again into a comfortable position beside her once again and gave a low sound from the back of his throat, sounding much like a warning to Ron.

The redhead got the message and finally rose and left after making sure the soft light in the closet wouldn't be shutting out anytime soon.

He joined Harry and Ginny in the living room where they were sitting on the couch; whatever conversation they'd been having had come to a halt at his arrival.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked immediately.

"Yeah." He nodded. "She woke for a bit, but she's asleep now. That monster of hers is keeping guard."

Ginny smirked at the fact that Ron's verbal attack on the cat lacked its usual tenacity.

"Half Kneazle, he has a better understanding than an ordinary cat." Ginny mused aloud.

"Heard that before." He recalled all times Hermione told him not to be so negative around her familiar for that very reason. "So what are we talking about?"

He watched the two pass a look between each other before Harry spoke, clearing his throat first.

"Ginny was telling me what happened in the bath with Hermione." He answered vaguely.

"Let's have it." He requested, remembering how distracted his sister had seemed when they'd come in from their walk and found her sitting in the kitchen with everyone. Ginny didn't answer him right away; it did nothing for Ron's nerves. "What happened? Gin?"

Uneasy with repeating it once more, a word she was raised to never use, Ginny forced herself to say the story once again.

"She saw her arm when Mum took off the bandage and she wanted me to read it." She saw Ron's eyes darken and knew he knew exactly what she was talking about. "I didn't want to, but she kept on about it so…so I did."

"What happened?" Ron pressed.

"She looked like she was thinking about something, concentrating hard and then…" she paused a moment. "Not so smart now, are you mudblood."

Ron looked at her a second as if in shock.

"She said that?"

"Twice." Ginny nodded.

Ron folded his hands together briefly before separating them and crossing his arms over his chest. He suddenly felt extremely restless and didn't know what to do with his hands that didn't involve slamming them through the nearest wall. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he clenched his jaw and tightly forced his voice out.

"After that?" he asked, doing all he could to control his emotions; a mission he was only barely getting done by the tips of his fingers.

He knew he couldn't lose it, especially not in front of them. He never wanted Ginny to see him being out of control and then wonder exactly what occurred to make him so. Even if they knew vaguely that something happened, he would never give his family, least of all his little sister, the images that lived in his memory.

And Harry…

He was pretty certain the boy already thought Ron was less than one hundred percent. He wouldn't give him anymore cause to worry if he could help it.

"What happened next?" He elaborated his question. "After she said that?"

This she hadn't told Harry yet and he watched Ginny closely, desperate to lay his hand on her shoulder or leg or hand; anything to offer comfort. He refrained out of respect for Ron's presence as well as the voice in his head telling him to reinforce the belief that they had to stay at a distance. Although as the seconds sitting with her added up, he found that belief more and more empty.

Ginny looked between the two, holding her own hand as she explained what happened next.

X

* * *

_X_

_Ginny stared at her friend in shock of what had just come from her. She found her feet taking her closer quickly until she was at the bath's edge. The girl in the tub was looking down at her arm, her finger touching the red skin near the cuts._

"_Hermione," Ginny found herself speaking with a gently, yet urgent tone. "Where did you hear that?"_

_Her brain barely registered what a stupid question it was. Clearly she'd been a victim of captivity and pain, but still Ginny couldn't help asking. Maybe Hermione could begin to give the answers she knew were needed._

"_Who said it, hm?" she asked further, though her friend's eye and attention remained where it had been. "Hermione? Do you remember anything else?"_

_The girl's lips quivered a bit as she continued to stare. Before Ginny could speak another word to her, she was shocked once more._

_Hermione swiped her palm roughly down her arm over the sensitive wound. She did so again and again harshly, her breathing increasing, water splashing as her attempt to wipe the word away became more and more frantic._

"_Hermione. Hermione, stop!" Ginny spoke, finally free from her shocked stillness. "You're going to hurt yourself, stop!"_

_Her mum returned as Ginny tried to grab hold of the girl's arm and halt her actions as she began attempting to now scratch at the wound with the scarcely there nubs of her regrowing fingernails._

_Hermione's strength wasn't why Ginny was having difficulty stopping her, for they all knew she wasn't terribly strong yet. But, rather, it was a combination of the girl's slick skin and the fear trembling Ginny's hands that made it so. Fear of what was happening, what had happened, and fear of hurting her friend further._

"_What's going on?" Her mother asked right away, alarmed at what she'd walked in on. She didn't wait for an answer and quickly closed the space between them._

_Ginny felt herself being gripped harshly and pulled away by her mother's hand as the matriarch took her place. Ginny watched, suppressing a sudden sob and feeling helpless as her mother spoke Hermione's name in a tone Ginny hadn't heard in quite a while. It held a strong authority and power, but not in an intimidating way. It sounded like someone who could save your life if you listened to what they said; their voice was a lifeline._

"_Hermione." She spoke forcefully, grabbing the girl's arm and holding it with a firm grip; experienced by raising several children who she'd bathed and wrangled. Hermione cried out when she felt it and water flew up in a loud splash as she pulled her knees up to her chest._

_Ginny noticed then the girl's quick breaths suddenly became words she could hear._

"_Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood." _

_It was a quick repetition and it shattered the observing girl's heart._

_Ginny's eyes widened when she watched her mum, not wasting another moment or thought, get into the tub. Water passing over the edge in a large wave with the addition. The woman was on her knees before the young girl, not caring about the state of her clothes or the floor. She put her hands first on Hermione's shoulders to stop her movements, and then a wrinkling hand on either side of her face as the older woman continued to speak her name over and over._

_After a few moments, only the girl's eyes were moving about the room wildly, her hands clenching to fists as the word continued to fall rapidly from her mouth._

"_Shh," Her mother spoke softly now, while Ginny continued to only stare at the scene. "Shh, it's alright. IT's alright."_

_Slowly, Hermione's repeating word got quieter before it was only replaced with the quick breaths. Ginny watched her role model carefully grab one of Hermione's hands in each of hers. _

_Molly placed one of the wet hands against her own sternum and the other over Hermione's own bare chest. Holding the girl's hands there, one on each of their chests, she looked in her eyes and began taking deep purposeful breaths. She felt Hermione's damp hand twitch against the clothes as it felt the lungs beneath expand and deflate with a slow rhythm. _

_The girl looked down at her own chest, where her hand was pressed, feeling the difference between the two of them. After a few moments like this, their breathing became synchronized, and Ginny saw her friend relax a bit now that she'd calmed._

"_Ginny." The youngest Weasley jumped, not realizing she'd come closer at some point until her mother's voice startled her. "Fetch the bandaging."_

X

* * *

X

The boys could only watch her in a stunned silence one the recollection was over. Harry looked at Ron, licking his lips in preparation to say something even though he wasn't sure what he could say after hearing about that.

"Ron-"

His friend wasted no time in turning away from them, cutting off whatever his friend was about to say, and leaving the room. He went up the stairs and was about to push his way through the door to the room she was staying in when he found himself halting suddenly.

He wanted so badly to storm into the room but knew that if he did, he'd need to indulge in his impulse. He knew he'd go straight to the bed, ignoring all that he should or shouldn't be doing, and grab her. He wouldn't care that she was sleeping or that she was still recovering; he would pull her into his arms and hold her as tightly as possible. For all the restraint he'd shown so far, Ron doubted he would be able to control himself at this point.

His chest was heaving as his emotions built upon each other and began to overwhelm him. He ran his hands through his hair, stopping halfway through and grabbing his too long locks and gripping them fiercely. He kept his mouth shut as a scream of rage tore through his throat. Tears burned his eyes and he couldn't catch his breath.

It was happening. He was falling apart, right there in the hallway of his brother's home. Roll of thunder made him jump in place. He covered his face with his hands while his shoulders shuddered at the rattling breaths his lungs fought to take.

What was he going to do?

Before he could think on it, he felt a hand appear on his shoulder and he spun around, his fist pulled back prepared to strike. He froze, seeing who'd seemingly snuck up on him in the hall. He saw the kind, sympathetic eyes and the familiar voice that spoke his name undid him. His own voice shook as he responded.

"Mum…"

It was all he managed out before he felt the loving arms begin to circle him. Without any other stimulant for it, he broke down. The young man sobbed into his mother's embrace and held her with all the strength he could manage.

X

* * *

X

The dark man sat behind the desk in the headmaster's office – _his_ office – with the texts laid out before him on the desk. He sighed as he came across a new piece of information that proved his most recent theory to be a dead end.

Severus Snape pinched the bridge of his nose to fend off an approaching headache as he found himself at yet another failed attempt at the mission he'd assigned himself. His attention suddenly went to the fireplace as it roared a brilliant green and out stepped one of his least favorite people.

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Snape rose to his feet and walked around to the front of his desk to greet his visitor.

"Bellatrix." He spoke in his usual drawl. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"'

"Hello Severus." The woman greeted without answering his question. Looking to his desk, she trailed her fingers over the many open books, turning some pages as she did so. "Someone's been studying…but what for?"

Taking a step towards his desk, he closed the book she was currently placing her eyes upon in an effort to find out what it was he was researching.

"What can I do for you, Bellatrix?" he asked her. The last time he'd seen her was when she was being punished for allowing Weasley and Granger to escape the Manor.

"I've come in favor of the Dark Lord." She informed him.

"Is that so?" he questioned. "Pray tell, what is it the Dark Lord wishes me to know that he does not summon me to his presence?"

"You overestimate yourself Severus." She mused. "The Dark Lord grants audience only to those he deems most worthy."

He smirked at her attempt to take a shot at him.

"And it was you and your brother-in-law that proved _most_ worthy to be at the end of his wand not long ago." He retorted.

He watched his comment hit its mark and all left her face except the darkness.

"I've come regarding the mudblood."

At her words, Snape had to refrain from allowing his eyes to flick over to the books on his desk. If it became known what he was researching, he would be outed.

Keeping a stoic face he'd perfected in all his years, he calmly asked:

"What of her?"

X

* * *

X

* * *

**A/N: There you have it, hope it was worth the wait...apologies if it wasn't.**

**In an unrelated note, I've found myself pretty into "Little Hermione" stories. Where it starts with her as a baby or little kid, or in some cases I've found she somehow gets turned into one... ANYWAY, that's what I guess I've been diving for lately when none of the stories I currently read have any updates.**

**Does anyone know of any good stories in that subject? I'd love to check them out while I'm on this kick.**

**Thanks,**

**Torch**


	23. Terrible Storm

**A/N: Hello all! Do you remember me? I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't or chose to boycott me for my abandonment. Anyway, as hectic as things are, they're also looking up! My family's health seems to be on the mend and hopefull it's gonna keep progressing. Thank you all for you kind words. They mean a lot to me. And **_yumyums210 _**you ****can ****have ****this ****as ****the ****early ****Christmas ****present ****you ****asked ****for**

**Hope you like it!**

**X**

* * *

"_There was a terrible storm_

_And you were wearing all our coats_

_In the back of this car_

_I feel like I have traveled nowhere"_

'_Terrible __Storm__'_ by Tegan and Sara

* * *

X

Another harsh round of thunder rumbled over the small cottage. Inside, Ron turned his head away from the window, away from the flash of lightning in his sleep. He gave a groan of protest and woke to the dark room. Inhaling sharply he glanced around the room, alight only with the dim glow from the closet to add relief. He stretched his arms over his head in the chair and glanced toward the cot he knew his sister to be using. Well the one she should be using, it was empty.

He told himself she was at the bathroom so he wouldn't have to think of where she most likely was. He heard a low mewl and his attention went to the shadowed creature on the floor by the door. Groaning, he rose from the chair and crossed the room towards it.

"Yeah, yeah. Bugger off." He grumbled at the beast as he opened the door and Crookshanks left the room for whatever business a cat had in the middle of the night. He left the door open a crack in case he decided to come back.

Ron rubbed his neck and returned to his chair, stopping before sitting up. Without Crookshanks at his post, Ron realized he could lie on the bed. Doing just that, Ron carefully set himself on the mattress near her but not touching. He wondered a moment before he decided he had to indulge himself. He'd held off for so long, never taking a step without her permission. But at the moment, Ron couldn't stop his hand as it reached over and slid strands of curls away from her face. The soft locks tickled his skin and the portion of skin he felt left his fingers tingling with anticipation for more.

He wasn't sure how he'd been expecting her to react, but it certainly wasn't to sigh and turn towards his hand. Before he could dwell too much on it, he felt drowsiness take over. He removed his hand and laid it on his chest as he stared at the ceiling. A flash of light illuminating the wood work was the last thing he saw before his eyes slowly closed.

_He could still hear thunder. _

_That was the first thing Ron noticed as he came around. He was no longer in his brother's secluded home on the seaside, yet he still heard a low rumble from the storm taking place._

_The second thing he realized was exactly where he was. He knew this place. The walls, the floors, the furniture, the fireplace. He knew exactly where he stood._

"_The common room." He muttered to himself._

_The Gryffindor common room. He felt like he hadn't seen it in lifetimes, yet it was exactly as he remembered it. _

_He cast his blue eyes around the area, taking in its vacancy before settling on the couch near the lit fireplace. It wasn't the couch that he cared for; it was the top of hair peeking over the arm that got him. _

_Coming over to it quickly, Ron found himself before her once again. Hermione; lying with her head on the arm of the seat her eyes trained on the rich orange flames._

"_Hermione?" he spoke questioning her presence. "Is that you?"_

_Her eyes cut to him and a soft smile appeared on her face as she pulled herself to sitting up._

"_Of course it's me." She answered; amused and confused. "Why would you ask such a thing?"_

_He suddenly looked uneasily around them. No one else was around, this dream felt than the last one he had with her._

"_I just…" he started, looking at her once again. "I feel like I should be sure, that's all. Things have been confusing sometimes."_

_She pat the cushion beside her and Ron sat beside her as she responded._

"_Well, I'm most certainly myself." She told him. "The same as I've always been as far as I'm aware. What about you? Are you Ronald Weasley?"_

"_Last I checked." He said, looking down, patting his chest up and down. "But I'd have to be, right? Seeing as it's my dream, of course I'm me."_

_She seemed to find something amusing in his answer. She smirked at him and ran a hand through her tangled locks, her fingers catching halfway through._

"_I don't see how your mind works sometimes." She spoke with a smile._

_Ron couldn't help releasing a lopsided grin of his own. This Hermione; she was so different, yet exactly the same. Different from the present. As he heard her statement he let out a small airy laugh and defended himself._

"_What's wrong with my mind?" he questioned. "It makes sense, don't it?"_

"Doesn't _it.__" __She__corrected.__ "__And __it __would, __I __suppose, __if __it __were __true.__"_

"_If what were true?"_

"_If this was all some dream of yours." She elaborated, gesturing around the room._

"_What?__" __now __really __confused.__ "__What __you __mean? __Th-This _is _a __dream. __My __dream.__"_

"_Don't be ridiculous Ronald." She answered dismissively._

"_It's not ridiculous." He stood up. "I…We were at Shell Cottage, me and you, you were sleeping. I laid down next to you."_

"_Ron, are you feeling well?" she asked, concern in her voice as she rose and put a hand over his forehead to check for fever. He quickly removed her hand and stepped back, looking around._

"_Hermione, I'm not sick. I'm not." He swore. "I'm serious."_

"_Something's obviously wrong, Ron. You're confused, somehow. The things you're saying don't make sense. I've never been any place called Shell Cottage. And this clearly isn't a dream, it's real. Calm down and we'll make sense of this-whatever it is."_

_Ron shook his head; he put his hands on either of her shoulders and forced her to look in his eyes as a roll of thunder sounded nearby._

"_Hermione, this isn't real!" he told her then suddenly questioned. "Do you remember Godric's Hollow? What happened there?"_

"_OF course I do." She spoke tilting her chin up as she did when her intelligence was questioned. "It's where Harry's parents lived, where they were kil-"_

"_No." he interrupted. "Not that. It's where we were. We were there, remember?"_

"_Ron-"_

"_We were there." He reiterated "The three of us. It's where, It's where you were taken."_

"_Taken?" she questioned. "Nonsense, I haven't-"_

"_Yes, you were, Hermione." He stated, feeling emotion curl in his throat. "I tried to-to help you but I couldn't. I…They took you; they took you away. Bellatrix, she-"_

"_Stop this, Ron." She said in a quivering voice and turning away._

"_She hurt you." He continued despite her protest._

_The fireplace suddenly went dark casting the room in pitch black for a second before a flash of lightning struck. The light filled the room briefly and the two occupants were faced with a sudden image in its glow._

_Quick as the flash lasted, a vision of Bellatrix appeared standing before a strung up Hermione. _

_The light faded away as a scream filled the room._

_Both of them jumped in place. Ron spun around hearing something behind them. Instinctively he reached his arm out behind him to ensure Hermione's safety. _

_The noises were becoming clearer. More distinguishable. _

"_Hermione?" he whispered over his shoulder, fearful that she'd vanished and left him in a nightmare. No voice answered, but he felt a small hand clasp his tightly as the noises grew louder. _

_Grunting and hissing and moaning came from the shadows in a deep voice; followed by a chorus of whimpers and screams and pleas._

_Ron felt her hand tighten and he felt he was going to vomit. He'd never vomited in a dream before. But more than anything, he felt an overpowering dread of what would be revealed in a flash of light._

"_I remember this." He heard a hollow whisper behind him as the thunder hit harder and closer than it had yet. With it, a bolt of zig-zagging lightning illuminated the room yet again. It was brief, but Ron would never forget it. _

_The huge, bulk of a man, overtaking the body beneath it. In the heartbeat that the light lasted, Ron already memorized the look on her face. Terror. Pain. Humiliation. Defeat._

_He __looked __away. __Even __though __it __was __gone, __he __still __removed __his __eyes __from __the __space __in __which __he__'__d __seen __it __happening. __He__'__d __known __it __was __a __strong __possibility, __but __to __actually _see_ Hermione __being __hurt __that __way__…_

_He suddenly had a thought before another horrific memory could present itself. He turned to her._

"_Hermione?" he spoke carefully, feeling her tension as he cupped her cheeks and her eyes seemed too big for her face._

"_I'm not supposed to remember this." She spoke cryptically. "I remembered before, after I saw you last time…I'm not supposed to remember it."_

"_What happens if you do?" he asked but she shook her head. "Hermione, listen, do you remember why they're after you? Did you find something out? Something about the Horcruxes or…"_

_His voice was desperate as the storm grew worse. Whatever happened when she remembered was obviously coming._

_Ron was convinced this was no ordinary dream. Maybe it truly wasn't a dream at all, maybe this was real somewhere._

_The Hermione he spoke to wasn't just created from his memories and want to see her and be near her. _

"_It seems unimportant thing now." She spoke fearfully. "But I remember it was...it was very important."_

"_What is it?" he asked._

_Suddenly the stonewall burst behind him; Ron shielded Hermione as she screamed out in surprise at the booming sound. Wind howled loudly, roaring in his ears as it swept around them, bringing with it the ice cold rain of the storm._

"_Ron!" she shouted over the deafening sounds. She placed her hands on wet neck as her hair whipped around her face violently._

"_Ron, listen to me!" she shouted as best she could to be heard over the storm. "The vault! The LeStrange vault!"_

"_The vault?" Ron shouted back, not sure if he heard correctly as everything around them worsened. Another wall burst, and the third quickly followed suit. He held her close as the rain pounded down on them relentlessly. "What about it? What's in it?"_

_He was cut off as the final wall was destroyed, leaving them completely unguarded against the increasingly vicious elements. _

_Hermione wrapped her soaked arms around his neck and standing on her toes and holding herself as close to him as possible. He could scarcely hear her, though she was near his ear. _

"_Stay with me." She begged. "Don't leave. Ron, please don't leave me!"_

"_I'm not going anywhere!" he said back, holding her tightly. "I'm here. I'm right here!"_

"_Don't leave." She repeated. "Please, Ron, don't-"_

Ron shot up gasping and moving so quickly, he fell out of the bed and hit the floor with a loud, sharp thud. His chest heaving up and down, his shirt was soaked through with sweat, he pulled open the side table drawer and grabbed Hermione's wand from inside. He was shaking so badly the wand was jutting side to side as he stuttered out a "Lumos." Twice before it actually lit.

He darted the wand around, illuminating the shadows where the glow of the closet didn't reach. He could hear noises now from the bed and rose on wobbling legs. He went over to the bed, climbing across the empty space to find Hermione. He came to her side, casting a glow over her face. It was not the calm serenity it was earlier. Her face was scrunched and her breaths were quick; he could see the layers of sweat covering her skin. As he leaned closer to her, a stench came to his nose and he realized was it was almost instantly. Whatever dream she was having, it was clearly as a bad or somehow worse than what he'd just woke from.

He removed the blankets, tossing them back quickly in one swift motion. The evidence confirmed his suspicion and Ron quickly waved the wand to clean the mess from the bed sheets as well as her night clothes. Saving her any embarrassment she may feel waking up in her own wet mess.

She began to writhe, and he attempted to calm her by cupping her cheek and speaking softly to her. He stroked the skin carefully and spoke her name, trying to bring her from the nightmare she was trapped in. But it didn't seem to help as everything seemed to get worse. She let out gasps of pain and whimpers of fear.

He continued to do all he could to calm her, but it wasn't until she gripped the sheets in a tightfisted grip and started screaming that he realized she needed more than gentle words.

Ron ran from the room, stumbling to the master bedroom where his parents slept. HE began banging on the door. Over and over, before moving to the door that hid his brother and sister-in-law. Repeating the actions just as his father appeared; wand ready. His mother appeared behind him, putting her sleeves into a dressing gown, the exact same positions that Bill and Fleur appeared in before him.

"Hermione." Was all he managed to get out before the women pushed by their husbands and hurried to the room where now more screams, louder, pain filled screams, were piercing the night.

The sounds suddenly stopped abruptly and Ron knew it wasn't that Hermione had stopped screaming, but that a silence had been spelled around the room to keep the entire house from being woken by the screams of terror.

"Ron." He heard his father say for his attention. "Son, are you alright?"

"They'll take care of her." He said quietly, half sounding like a question.

"They'll take care of her Ron." Bill assured with a nod, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Ron shook his head, hoping to clear some of the fog from his mind and ran his hand down his face.

"I have to talk to Harry."

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

**A/N: This was a lot longer, but I chopped it into two. Luckily enough that means the next update is already written out and will be put up next week happily! Hope you enjoyed this, I did. Setting up for the action here. The next bit is a big'n!**


	24. No Light, No Light

**A/N: Hey check me out updating in less than a month! So this week/weekend has been pretty awesome. Finals are over, I'm good for the semester had a killin Harry Potter Party for my sister's birthday, and yes we dressed up. It was awesome! Not to toot my own horn, but I pretty much rocked Tonks like nobody's business. Still have the hair to prove it….AND I have a one on one interview with the head of ICU nursing tomorrow morning! Man, I'd call all that a collective win!**

**This starts literally where the last chapter stopped. Like I said, it was all one veeeeeeeery long chapter. As it is, this one is still a long'n. **

**X**

* * *

_"You can't choose what stays and what fades away_

_And I'll do anything to make you stay"_

_'No Light, No Light_ by Florence & The Machine

* * *

X

* * *

Ron made his way downstairs, skipping those that creaked which he'd committed to memory in the same manner as avoiding the trick step at Hogwarts. Moving quietly to the living room, he found his best friend. But the boy was not on the couch as he should be; rather he was on the floor on a thin mattress – transfigured from the missing couch cushions no doubt – and he wasn't alone. He saw, clear as day even in the darkness, the familiar profile of his sister nestled snuggly with her back against his chest and Harry's arm wrapped protectively around her.

Ron wasn't able to keep the familiar feelings that rose at the thought of the two together from rising in him at the sight. What he _was_ able to do was keep them from overtaking him and causing him to react. It wasn't like he thought Harry was a bad guy or anything, he knew for a fact he wasn't anything to be ashamed of. But what was he supposed to feel? First of all, it was his sister; his little sister at that. He didn't like the idea of anybody with her in a romantic sense. Forcing himself to push those thoughts aside, Ron focused on the important thing at hand.

He glanced around and found himself wondering where Remus was. There was no sign of the man anywhere near them and he knew for a fact that he usually slept down in the living room with Harry, as Ron was supposed to but as of yet hadn't. Ron suddenly questioned what sort of moon was out tonight. Was that were the former professor was?

Out in the storm, running wild as his inner wolf? Without Snape on their side any longer, Ron wasn't sure if the man was able to have a dependable wolfsbane source.

Regardless, Ron returned to his original thought: Focus.

He knelt beside Harry and gave him a purposeful squeeze on the shoulder. The young wizard inhaled sharply and questioned the world around him.

"Mm?" he nearly moaned, turning his head and Ron shushed him right away.

"It's me." He whispered, not wanting to wake his sister. "We have to talk. It's important."

This seemed to wake his friend more, and Harry was carefully extracting himself from Ginny in a moment. Ron felt a wash of relief when he noticed that both of them were fully clothed; not even in any sort of pajama. Upon seeing Ron's eyes travel over the two of them, Harry realized the position he'd been found in and spoke quickly as he put on his glasses.

"It's not what you think." He started in defense of the two of them. "After what happened today with Hermione, she needed to talk and-"

"It's not important right now." Ron interrupted in a whisper, not wanting to hear any of it at the moment. "Come on."

Harry rose and followed him to the kitchen table where Ron began explaining what he'd experienced; what just occurred while he slept. He did his best to explain the dream – or whatever it was for now he was certain that it was something more. He left out the sordid details of what he'd seen and focused only on the events. He then told him what she'd said to him about the vault. When he was done retelling what had happened after he woke, he finally paused his whispered words to allow Harry a chance to react.

"Is she ok?" he asked first and foremost in his own hushed tone.

"Mum and Fleur are with her. I don't know anything else yet." He informed him. "I left them to come to you. Harry? Do you think there's anything to it? The Lestrange vault, I mean."

Harry ran a hand through is hair, messing it even more than it already was.

"It's possible." He replied, knowing too well that sometimes dreams weren't simply dreams at all. "It's more than there's been to go on in weeks, isn't it?"

Ron nodded, picking at a chip in the table's surface.

"Ron, you're sure it wasn't just a dream?" he asked, just wanting to be as certain as possible.

"I'm sure." He answered without a moment's hesitation. "It has to be. I mean, you weren't there Harry. It was so…it was so real. The sounds, the smells and feelings; her. I don't know what to call it, but whatever it was it mattered. This might sound weird but…but I felt like she was, like she was trying to tell me something. Hermione. Hermione as she was and she needed me to know about the vault. It's what she figured out, it's why they're after her; it has to be."

Ron stopped, taking a breath and putting his face in his hands. He probably sounded barmy But he knew what he was trying to say was true; maybe he just wasn't saying I right. He wasn't good with words. That was Hermione. Even if it took a few different attempts with several different approaches, she was always able to find a way to make the two of them understand. He felt a hand on his arm and raised his head to see Harry looking at him with deep sincerity.

"I believe you." He told him.

Ron nodded, barely managing to choke out a thank you past the swell of emotion the night was causing. Harry returned the nod with one of his own and removed his hand after patting his friend a few times. The taller wizard blew out a breath before beginning to speak again.

"We need a plan." Ron started, and then elaborated. "We need a plan to get into Gringotts and see what's in that vault."

Plans, another thing Hermione was better at.

But Harry's mind went to another part of the statement. A word caught his attention and he was equal parts hopeful and fearful of whether or not he heard right.

"We?" he questioned, to which Ron cleared his throat. "Does that mean…"

Ron knotted his fingers together and leaned his elbows on the table.

"Yeah." He answered as if it almost hurt him in some way to do so. Harry noticed this.

"Don't think you have to." He offered. "I know how important Hermione is to both of us…especially to you. An-And after everything, I'm not asking you to leave her or leave this place. You guys are safe here."

Ron inhaled and exhaled slowly as if pondering what he said.

"I know." He finally answered. "It wasn't easy to decide, it won't be easy to do, but…it's with you. She'll be safe here with Mum and Fleur taking care of her…and that damn cat of hers."

Harry forced a chuckle at his lighter words.

"But you should know from the start Harry," he continued. "Bellatrix…she's mine.

"Ron-"he tried to warn him where these thoughts could go.

"I'm gonna kill her Harry." He promised, leaving no room for argument. "And I need Snape."

"Snape?" he asked confused. "Was he one of them that were –"

"That's not why." Ron interrupted. "Whatever's been done to Hermione, I bet Snape can fix it. IF I have to torture the bastard to have him do it, I will if it means he'll help her."

Harry only nodded in understanding.

"We need a plan.' He repeated Ron's words back to him.

"Should we get Remus?" Ron asked. "He might be able to come up with something."

"No." Harry stated. "If he doesn't have to be, I don't want him any nearer to this than I want any of you. We won't tell him; let him go back to his wife and son."

"So what do we do, then?" Ron questioned. "Gringotts ain't exactly known for how easy it is to get in and out, is it?"

A short silence fell and the two mentally attempted to work out a believable and doable scenario wherein they got in and out without being caught or killed. The silence continued another few heartbeats before a voice made itself known, startling both of them.

"I have an idea."

The boys turned in their chairs and saw Ginny standing in the entryway of the kitchen.

X

* * *

X

Snape fought the urge to clench his fists. He saw no need for this, especially in the middle of the night. He already knew nothing good would come of this, but rather than listen to him, Bellatrix had fired on about the Dark Lord's wishes and demanded Snape oblige lest she take news of his reluctance to their Lord himself.

So now he was in the headmaster's office, which he was still reluctant to call his own, watching the Carrow siblings unceremoniously manhandle the young women into the room. Pushed and pulled by their collars until they were forced to sit in the available chairs before the desk.

Snape took in the sight of them. Disheveled from being woken from sleep and brought from their beds, he felt his teeth press tightly together as they gazed around fearfully. Two pairs of eyes darted from person to person before landing on Snape as began speaking to them in a controlled baritone.

"Miss Brown." He said making eye contact with her before sliding his dark orbs to the next girl. "Miss Patil."

He paused as if waiting for a response of greeting form the shaking girls.

"You, no doubt, are wondering why it is you've been called upon at such a late hour." He mused and crossed his arms as he stood in front of the two, keeping a stoic face as he spoke. "It seems a …matter of great importance has come up. A matter involving Miss Granger."

At their fellow student's name being mentioned the two Gryffindors cast looks towards one another before forcing themselves to look back once more.

"What…" Lavender attempted to speak, looking to her hands in her lap as if she'd find strength there. "Has something happened…sir?"

She had to swallow hard to keep the bile down as she pushed the last word out.

"It is not something to be discussed." He excused. "However, it is important that Miss Granger is found in order to speak with her. Her home has been visited –"at this the girls looked up at him in sudden concern. "-and the residence is empty. As you two have roomed with Miss Granger these past six years, I wonder if you have any knowledge where she may be."

The girls shared another look, Lavender giving Pavarti a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. The dark skinned girl spoke for the first time.

"No sir." She answered. "As far as we know, Hermione never goes anywhere but her home. Sh-She's never mentioned anyplace else."

It was a lie. All of Gryffindor knew the girl spent as much time at the Weasley house as she did her own if not more. Not to mention, the trips she spoke of taking with her parents to various places and countries. It was a strong belief that she hadn't fled with her parents for safety as a few assumed, but rather that she, with the two absent boys, were doing something. Something big.

Before more could be said, a wand was jabbing painfully into her neck and her hair was yanked back, tilting her head.

"She's lying." Accused Amycus in a rough voice.

"I'm not." She said with a gasp as sharp tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

"She's lying to protect her mudblood friend." He elaborated, pressing the wand further into the girl's skin. "She needs some persuasion, she does."

"You're the liars!' Lavender suddenly burst, looking at Snape and taking attention away from her dorm mate. "There's no matter you need to speak with Hermione about. You're looking for her 'cause you're in trouble. All of you, you know that Harry's out there-"

"Miss Brown, contain yourself." He ordered as her words went on without pause.

"-and he's going to stop this. He's going to stop you and-"

She was cut off by her own screams after the word 'Crucio' was barely heard over her tirade. Lavender fell from the chair and Snape closed his eyes, wishing his reality wasn't truly this world.

"Enough." He stated and the screaming halted. Now he heard sobbing from two parties, opening his eyes he found the Patil girl watching her friend with tears rolling down her face.

"Miss Patil," he got her to look up at him with her wet eyes. "Assist Miss Brown back to your dorm. You are dismissed."

X

* * *

X

There were several things Ron didn't like about the plan.

Most of all, he didn't like the idea of Ginny, his little sister, his _only_ sister, being any part of it. He had practically exploded the moment her notion was turned into words for them. It was too dangerous; far too dangerous. He had argued, Harry had argued, but somehow nothing had come from it. Nothing, that is, except Ginny's barrage of sensible points. One of which being that a girl would definitely have a better chance at coming off as …her. Ron debated until he was red in the face, especially when Ginny had dared to point out that if what happened to Hermione hadn't occurred, _she'd_ likely be doing it and the boys would be going along with it.

Ron didn't believe it and he stated the very fact. He refused to think that they'd be so reckless about Hermione's safety. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself; a part of him gave a painful twinge of agreement in the fact. If it hadn't happened, if Hermione was as well as she'd been at the start of it all, it was painfully possible that he'd allow her to do something like this. Sure, he'd be with her, he'd keep his eyes open for her, but she'd still be doing it wouldn't she? She'd still be right in the thick of danger as they'd all been now.

Harry didn't want it to happen any more than Ron did, but it was Harry who somehow found the ability to agree first, albeit reluctantly. They would just have to look out for her and protect her as they should have for Hermione.

Ron climbed the stairs, heading back to her room in hopes that everything had settled and she was alright. Besides that, he had to speak with Fleur. He needed to know what had been done with the clothes they'd been wearing when they arrived. He didn't know likely it was that they hadn't been washed, or possibly even burned yet but he had to ask regardless. That wouldn't be the hard part; he needed to talk to his sister-in-law to tell her that he would be leaving soon. It wouldn't be easy, and he'd prefer not to mention it to anybody if he could help it, but he needed to. Ron needed to talk to Fleur about Hermione; he needed to know she would be left in safe hands that would always be looking out for her and know what to do when things were rough.

As he reached the not completely closed door, he began to hear voices coming through. He figured the silencing ward must have worn off because he couldn't see any reason for them to remove it if they weren't done. Then again, with all the unintended magical bursts that Hermione exerted during extreme emotion, it was also possible she'd somehow ended it on her own without meaning to and they'd just been too busy to bother putting it back. He was about to enter, when he found himself suddenly stopping at the doorframe and tilting his head towards the crack to listen.

"…the poor dear. Have you controlled that one yet?" he heard his mum ask.

"It iz slowing down." Fleur responded, at this Ron tried to get a peek through the sliver of a crack to see what was going on. He saw his mother's back, hunched over near Hermione's waist, her arms in front of her he assumed on the girl. He maneuvered for a glance at anything else available and was able to barely see half of the taller French witch's head as she looked down at the other side of his friend. The floor was littered with rags stained with color…red color. His heart leapt to his throat and he forced his eyes back up when Fleur spoke. He saw that she was now looking up as well, glancing across the bed at his mother.

"Mozer Weazley, what 'as caused zis? I 'ave seen wounds open before, but I don't understand zis." She explained her accent thick in her stress. "Zey bleed, but I see no tears."

Ron furrowed his brow as he mentally deciphered what was said in the Veela's voice. She definitely hadn't been bleeding when Ron left her. Things had clearly gotten worse after he got the women.

"I know dearie." His mother's voice followed softly after a moan rose from the person of whom they spoke. She shushed her kindly for a few moments until it quieted down. "There, there. It's alright."

A few gentle sounds later, Ron heard his mother begin in a voice, quieter than what she'd already been using. He feared for a brief moment that she knew he was listening and didn't want him to overhear, but it quickly fled his mind as he realized it wasn't him she was whispering for; Hermione was right there in the room. He squinted into the crack, hoping for a peek at her face to know if she was conscious or not, but he couldn't see enough. He strained his ear to hear what his mother was saying but was only able to catch a few words.

"…dark magic…first war…her mind…"

He desperately wished to know everything that his mum seemed to know about what was happening. He wished his mother was as bad at whispering as Fleur seemed to be, because he could clearly hear her response to whatever explanation she was given.

"Mon Dieu." She replied in a breath. " 'ave you told zee others? Ronald eez at 'er side always. 'e cares very deeply."

His mother's voice returned to a more audible volume yet was still nowhere near her normal speaking voice.

"His father and I believe it's best if no one else knows the severity of it just yet; especially Ron and Harry because they care so deeply. It wouldn't do to upset anyone any more than necessary at the moment. If …_When_ things calm down, we can have a talk…decide what to do next."

He heard some French follow and decided to finally make his presence known. He knocked on the door and the two Weasley wives looked his way as he slowly pushed the door open.

"Ron." His mother greeted. "Have you been hovering this whole time just outside the door?"

"No. I was with Harry and Gin, letting them know what happened." He answered, not completely lying while not wanting to admit that he was spying on his own mum. "Is she ok?"

His mother looked down at where she was holding a thick piece of gauze over the young girl's abdomen. He heard them mention bleeding, open wounds and he knew exactly which ones they were talking about now. His eyes flashed and just as he assumed he'd see, under Fleur's hands was an identical white material on Hermione's arm, though this one was slightly colored.

"She'll be alright." Molly answered with a nod and a forced smile that she ended halfway through. "Cuts opened up a bit, but it's about stopped now. A few bandages and all's well."

"Good." Ron nodded, releasing a sigh and then commenting. "Some nightmare."

"Yes." Molly answered, glancing at her daughter-in-law who was rewrapping the derogatory slashes of Hermione's arms with a clean bandage. "It's unavoidable, I'm afraid."

Ron tried to not burst out that he heard the conversation…well most of it anyway. He knew she was keeping details about what was happening from him. He wanted to know. He _had _to know. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched his mother finish up and begin cleaning. She knew what she was doing, he thought. She always knew what she was doing.

She was his mum. She knew what was best for him…for everyone. She was looking out for him. It was this knowledge that led him to believe maybe, for now it was better that she didn't tell him everything. Maybe, if he knew the truth, the whole truth, he wouldn't be able to leave with Harry or he would but wouldn't be able to focus. He could make a costly mistake because his mind wasn't in the right place. She would tell him when things were calm again. When it was all over.

It was all the more reason he had to help end this war as soon as possible. He trusted his mother. He trusted her to what was best for Hermione.

"All set." He heard her say, as she lifted the now clean blankets to Hermione chin and tucked her in.

She lightly trailed her finger along her forehead, swiping sweat drenched hair away from her slick forehead as she lay still; her breathing a steady rhythm once more. Molly looked down at her with the maternal eyes she cast upon her children; especially when they were in pain. She let her fingers linger on the young girl, her eyes remaining softly on her form while she spoke.

"I expect she'll be asleep for a while yet; poor child is exhausted."

Molly let out a slow breath before finally tearing her eyes away from the bed and approaching her youngest son. She placed her hands on either of his cheeks. A brief image of those hands covered in Hermione's blood flickered through his mind.

"Try to sleep, darling." She requested. "Looks as if you need it as well."

He nodded and she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Night Mum." He said quietly and she returned the words before leaving.

"Fleur, wait." He asked before the blonde could exit as well. "I was wondering if you'd done anything with my clothes. The ones I was wearing when we arrived."

"I 'ave not 'ad time." She admitted honestly; all the work with healing and potions and being a hostess to a house full of people had kept her busy. "Why?"

"I need them." He told her, and then lied. "I had something in my pocket, see, and I've just remembered."

She nodded and left briefly before returning with the still unwashed clothes. She handed them tentatively over.

"Your mozer would think me a terrible housekeeper, non?" she asked; half joking, half serious. She wished for the woman's approval deeply.

"Believe me, she knows about chaos." He tried to assuage her worries with a small grin. "She'd understand."

"Goodnight Ronald." She said with a small smile of appreciation.

"G'night." He nodded, following her to the door to close her out.

Once, twice, three times, he closed and opened the door yet again before turning away from it. He'd only taken one step when the scratching reached his ears. With a groan, he cracked the door, watching the cat return.

"Where've you been?" he asked accusingly, as if the cat's absence had had something to do with what happened.

Crookshanks ignored him, as always, and strutted across the floor to leap back up on the mattress. He made himself comfortable beside his owners sleeping form and began licking the pads of his paws. Ron imagined him to be tasting the remaining flavors of whatever unlucky bird or field mouse he'd made a late night snack of.

One. Two. Three. He didn't even notice he was doing it as he let go of his grip on the doorknob and once again walked into the room. He flopped down in the chair beside the bed and ran a hand over his face.

"Merlin." He whispered, rubbing his eyes.

He felt as if he could sob now if he allowed himself to. But let out a slow, steadying breath instead. He wasn't done. He'd lay down in a few moments, he'd let himself cry…most likely cry himself to sleep, though he was equal parts frightened and anxious over the possibility of another dream such as the one he woke from.

With the light still on, he looked over the clothes he held, one piece at a time. He stopped on the long sleeved shirt. His eyes travelled over the rips and the dirt and the hard brown splotches of dried blood. It was impossible to tell at this point whether it was his or hers. It all looked the same, didn't it?

Pureblood, half-blood, muggleborn, muggle, squib…

This war was about blood and there was absolutely no discernible difference between any of it.

He squinted his eyes, reaching to the fabric carefully. His fingers pinched onto a hair and pulled it away to hold up to the light for inspection.

Long, curled and black as pitch; it was unmistakable.

It was just what they needed.

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, Fleur talk…it hurts to write! Hope you guys enjoyed this.**


	25. Believe

**A/N: Things really aren't great in life right now. That's all I'm saying.**

X

* * *

X

"_Everything is gonna be alright_

_Everything is gonna be alright_

_Everything is gonna be alright_

_Be strong, believe"_

'_Believe' _by Yellowcard

X

* * *

X

Things went on uneventfully for a few days after the night of Ron's graphic dream. At least it seemed so.

During the days nothing seemed any different. Remus did his part to try to get Harry to think about their next move, not knowing what the young wizard already had planned. Fleur and Molly continued to bustle about to take care of the needs of the full house while their husbands continued to go about their daily business at work. Harry divided his daylight amongst his friends while always making sure he and Ginny got away for one of their now routine walks. Ron spent every moment possible with Hermione.

After the intensity of whatever it was that happened to her a few short nights ago, she'd returned to spending nearly all her time in bed. His mother had assured him that it wasn't unexpected; she'd been through a terrible amount and her body was still recovering. It was bound to occur that there were occasions that she'd need time to recover her energy. Getting up, walking around, meeting everyone, then that awful night…it took a toll on what she had. So this was really only a tiny step backward, if even that.

Her speech seemed to be improving each time he heard it, however. There were still several times when she stuttered when trying, still noticeable pauses where it was obvious she was struggling, and her vocabulary was currently on par with a young child…but Ron didn't care.

All he cared about was that she _was_ getting better. It wasn't overwhelmingly obvious to everyone else, but he knew it. He knew that even the smallest baby step was still a step in the right direction. He took joy in the fact that at least in this capacity, she was getting better. The days ended with Ron reading to her, as if it were a bedtime story.

However at night, once everyone had tucked themselves away until morning, the new routine began.

Ron, Ginny and Harry would gather out of range of the dreamers to discuss and plan their move. They had the hair, polyjuice that was long ago made by Hermione and kept in the beaded bag for when it was necessary; always thinking ahead.

Ginny would become Bellatrix, Ron would disguise his features and Harry would be under the cloak. The biggest catch was the trace. His sister was still underage and the last thing they needed was to alert the ministry of unauthorized magic at their location. It was essential that she keep from performing any spells outright. Harry and Ron would handle it if it became necessary. However, if it became dire, they couldn't restrict what had to happen to save them. Hopefully, her being Bellatrix and having her wand would make it unnecessary; he was cautiously optimistic that the threat of a spell would be enough to keep anyone from causing the apparent Death Eater any trouble.

They'd go to Gringott's, find what was hidden in the LeStrange vault and destroy the bloody thing. After that…Ron only hoped they'd find something that old them where to go next.

"It's settled then," Harry began. "we go in the morning."

Ron felt himself nod without his mind's instruction to do so. He didn't regret his decision to go forward, but that didn't make the idea of doing it any easier. He didn't want to leave Hermione; not for a second. He never wanted to be apart from her again for any length of time. Clearing his throat, he pushed himself up.

"We should get some sleep, yeah?" he suggested, not caring whether or not anyone agreed. He just had to leave the room; he had somewhere more important to spend his last night there. "Rest up, we got a long day tomorrow."

The couple gave him quiet goodnights, each holding a look of concern for the Gryffindor. They knew, as did everyone around them, Ron cared deeply for Hermione. On top of that, they knew the thought of leaving her behind in the condition she was in tore at him more than anyone else.

"Think he'll be alright?" Ginny asked, concerned for her brother.

"If we can end this." He replied. "If we can help Hermione."

"Harry." Her voice caught his attention and he moved his eyes away from where he'd seen his friend disappear up the stairs. "Will you do something for me?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion at the question but nodded nonetheless.

"What is it?" he questioned, feeling his heart give a jolt when she reached out to take his hand.

"I know it's foolish of me to ask you to promise you'll be alright." She couldn't force herself to use any phrase involving the word 'die'. "I know it's not something you or any of us can control."

"Ok?"

"But what you can control is…" she began, choosing her words carefully. "I need you to promise me you'll do everything you can to be ok. Promise me you won't be foolish enough to give yourself up for any reason. Promise me you'll never give up."

Harry saw the intensity in her eye as she asked – no begged – this of him. He set his jaw a moment before relaxing it. He regretted that there was a huge possibility his next words would be a lie. If it would save them, he knew without a doubt that he would die for them.

"I promise."

X

* * *

X

Upstairs Ron stood beside the bed, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the girl. There was a heavy pressure on his heart, as if something large had settled on his chest.

He was really going to do this.

He was really going to leave her.

A lump formed in his throat as he let the full realization hit him. His eyes stung and he took a long breath slowly in and out to fend off the tears that were more than ready to fall. Keeping them at bay for the moment, he sat himself on the bed beside her. As carefully as possible, he moved his body to lie out alongside hers and turned on his side. HE swallowed once, feeling his mind debate over whether or not he should do what he wanted to.

Before he was even aware that he'd come to a decision, he once again found himself reaching out to her while she slept. This time, however, he didn't worry about not waking her. In fact, this time it was his goal. He gently caressed the soft skin of her cheek and spoke her name.

"Hermione." He watched her twitch under the encouragement to wake. Her brow furrowed and a jumble of sounds came from her mouth quietly. None of them any clear words, but Ron felt a small tug at the corner of his lips. He tried again, a bit louder. "Hermione."

This time she awoke with a sharp inhale and a jerk of her body. He instantly began speaking again to assure her she was in no danger.

"Easy. It's me. You're alright. You're safe, I promise."

After a few moments, her eyes calmed their frantic run about the room and settled on him. She squinted to decipher the details of his face in the shadow; the positioning of his body partially blocking the dim glow from the closet.

"Ron?" her voice asked with a noticeable uncertainty. Her hand shook as it moved out towards him for reassurance.

"Yeah." He couldn't fight another small smile as he felt her slightly chilled fingertips flutter over his face before landing in his hair and inspiring a quiet sigh of relief from her lips. She relaxed from her frightened, just woken state and settled back onto her pillow.

"SSleep?" she asked tiredly as he covered her hand with his own.

"Yeah, in a minute." He told her. "We'll sleep in just a minute, but first I've got some stuff I got to tell you. Ok?"

She nodded in the darkened room and watched him curiously, waiting for him. Her recognition of words was still nowhere near where it once was; he thought of it as if she was a child learning, or in her case relearning, the language by listening to people around her and eventually recognizing and assigning meaning to what she heard.

Ron took another steadying breath and tried to make it so she could understand everything.

"Do you like it here?" he asked, watching her intently. "With Mum and Fleur…and Crookshanks too I suppose."

He could see her smile in the darkness as he mentioned the cat that was currently lying at her feet swishing his tail back and forth. She cast a look in the animal's direction and spoke.

"Crrooksh-shank." She stuttered out though its difficulty didn't hide her obvious happiness surrounding the thought of the cat. She looked back at Ron. "Soft."

He had to smile in response as well.

"Yeah, I suppose he is." He replied. "So you like being here with him, then?"

"Like." She nodded, then moved her hand and touched his arm a bit as she continued. "Like Ron."

His heart nearly exploded with those two words. It was almost enough for him to change his mind about leaving.

"I like Hermione." He answered in a whisper, letting their gazes hold a few moments before clearing his throat and, remembering why he'd woken her, spoke again. "Tomorrow, in the morning…see Harry and Ginny will be leaving for a bit…and, uh, and I'll be going with them."

He watched as her brow furrowed in concentration. He opened his mouth to try again another way, but before he could her voice came.

"Go?" she repeated questioningly to which he nodded solemnly. "Hermmiohne go?"

Ron wasn't expecting that. But even in the weight of the moment, he had to feel pride for her. Ginny had been helping her work on properly pronouncing her name. Regardless, he didn't look forward to what he was about to tell her.

"No." he shook his head. "Hermione, you're not going. You're staying here."

He knew right away that she understood him for the look of devastation that crossed her face upon hearing his words. She surprised him by sitting up suddenly. He followed suit and found her shaking her head from side to side.

"Nno." She spoke with obvious upset.

"Hermione-"

"No." she forced out clearer.

She squeezed her eyes shut and put her trembling hand to her temple as she tried to think.

What was it?

There was something to say. What was the word she wanted? After a moment of struggling, she started moving her mouth to form words again.

"SS…" she started, pressing her hand farther against her skull as the effort frustrated her. "SSt-Stay."

Ron felt his mouth go dry and he swallowed thickly at her desperate request. Merlin he wanted to stay. He should stay. Maybe …No.

No. He had to go. He had to do this for her; be on the frontline and serve the justice Hermione deserved.

"I can't." he whispered, his vision blurring with forming tears. "I can't, Hermione."

He wanted to slap himself as he watched her register his words. There was no doubt whatsoever as to whether or not she understood him or not. Leveling his gaze with hers, he reached up and gently put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione, Harry and I …we're going to get the people that hurt you." He explained. "We…_I'm_ going to make them pay, I promise."

He could see that she still didn't or refused to grasp exactly how important it was that he do this.

"There's someone…someone I think can help you." He told her. "I have to go find him and then you'll get better. Isn't that good? Don't you want to get better?"

He watched her lip quiver as she commenced the familiar action of touching her hand to the unusual scar on her head yet again.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes danced away from him and she looked down to her lap.

"Get better…" she started, lifting her eyes and watching him self-consciously. "...w-with Ron."

Ron couldn't prevent the quick sob that came from his lips. He immediately slammed his mouth shut to keep away anymore rebellious displays of how painful this was for him.

"I know you've gotten a bit better lately." He began. "I'd like to think I helped, but…but…"

He didn't know how to say it. How was he supposed to admit to her that he didn't think he was enough? This girl, this woman who he held so dearly in his heart…he couldn't bear the thought of confession his inadequacies to her. Ron wanted Hermione to be able to depend on him for everything. But this was something he couldn't completely bring her out of on his own. He didn't have the knowledge or the skills; Snape did.

His troubled thoughts were discarded when he felt her feather light touch slide over his hand. The slight tremor in her fingers that came occasionally – a lingering effect of the countless amount of torture curses forced on her – almost tickled the skin as she curled her fingers to hold his hand.

"Stay." She said again as she held his eyes.

Ron offered her a sad smile in response and maneuvered his hand so his fingers could grasp hers as well.

"I meant it before when I told you…you, that I think, that I love you." He said, letting out a humorless chuckle. "Maybe someday I'll say it without some dangerous adventure about to happen."

"Stay." She said again, as if he hadn't spoken a word just now. The simple command came from her this time with a more hopeful tone.

Without giving her an answer that would either upset her or be a lie, Ron replied in a light voice.

"Let's lay down, yeah?" he asked. "Sleep."

She nodded, giving him a slight smile. He felt a sting in his chest realizing that she'd taken his response as a positive answer to her request. Ron knew that letting her believe that was the same as lying to her, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't. All he could do was hope it ended up being worth it and that she would forgive him.

He watched her ease her recovering body on the mattress once more before doing the same beside her. They lay on their sides facing each other for a few moments. There was something in her tired eyes; something he hadn't seen in a few days. It was the look that told him she was thinking about something; specifically thinking about doing something but she wasn't sure if she should.

Before Ron could offer the encouraging words he had ready, she'd already made her own decision. Her hand moved to once again hold his. But they'd held hands before, so he wondered why she was currently chewing her bottom lip. After a moment she started to maneuver her body; shifting it carefully on the rustling sheets as her hand kept hold of his. His eyes widened as he watched her turn over; showing him her back and cautiously pulling his hand so his arm draped over her.

His heart sped up. Was this happening?

There was some space between them still, but he was actually holding her. For fear of breaking the moment, Ron didn't move a muscle, didn't even breathe. He allowed his arm to remain over her as her hand now was on the back of his and keeping it there. He fought the instinct to protectively tighten his hold.

Apparently his lack of response didn't go unnoticed. She interpreted his silent stillness as her having done something wrong. HE felt her hand loosen on his and her breath hitch.

"Ron?" her voice dripping with uncertainty.

He snapped out of his daze and spoke quickly after hearing the one broken word from her lips.

"It's ok." He said, finally letting his arm close further around her. "This is nice."

The understatement of a lifetime; made even more so when the mattress once again shifted under her moving body and he suddenly found her much closer, almost nestled directly against him. He could feel her back with his chest with each breath. It was her choice; his heart sang to him. She was choosing this right now with him.

"Nice." He heard her say quietly a few moments before her breaths evened out and she was asleep again.

Ron had never hated mornings more than he did that day as the sun's first rays pierced his safe haven. He couldn't remember ever having a more comfortable sleep. Waking to Hermione wrapped in his arms, he thought for a moment that he was still asleep and dreaming.

If only.

If it were a dream he wouldn't be faced with leaving her so soon. He spent several minutes basking in the sight and feel of her before he somehow found the strength within himself to do what he had to do. Carefully extracting himself without waking her, Ron got ready as if he were a man going to face his certain demise.

That's what leaving her felt like; leaving her was death.

But still he did it. Ron Weasley sent a final look at Hermione Granger and left the room, with no idea when or if he'd be able to set his eyes on her once again. He released a heavy breath in the hallway before making his legs take him downstairs. Harry and Ginny were already awake and speaking quietly with his sister-in-law. When they saw him he was met with quiet greetings and small smiles from the girls. He nodded in response. His sister thanked Fleur, he assumed for the clothes the younger girl was holding before she excused herself to go change.

"How are you?" Harry asked cautiously as he approached. Ron only nodded again, wondering where his voice had gone; specifically his desire to use it. He cleared his throat.

"You mind giving me a minute." He asked in a rough voice. "I've got to talk to Fleur."

Harry couldn't say he was expecting it, but nodded his agreement anyway.

"I'll wait outside." He informed before turning and quietly walking out of the mostly slumbering house.

Alone with the French woman, Ron took a few more steps closer. He opened his mouth but found himself still struggling with what he wanted to say. Fleur must have noticed and took the sign to speak first.

"You are certain you must go?" she asked, wringing her fingers.

" 'fraid so." He answered.

" 'ave you told 'er?"

"Last night. But…" he trailed off, looking down hoping to keep composed. "…but she…" he cleared his throat again. "…she asked me to stay."

Fleur's eyes widened a fraction at the testimony of the girl's continuing recovery.

"Qui?" she asked and he nodded.

"I-I tried to explain why I had to go. I don't think she understands that I have to…that I'm still going even though she asked me not to." He ran a hand down his face and looked up as he shifted from foot to foot. "When she wakes up…"

Fleur recognized how hard he was trying to control his emotions. She put a hand on his shoulder and nodded, understanding what he was asking of her.

"I will talk to 'er." She promised. "I will take care of 'er. I swear it."

"Thank you." He replied. "You've done so much already and…thank you."

"You can sank me by returning safely." She replied. "Take care of yourself, Ronald."

"I will." He answered to both requests.

He half turned to meet Harry outside where they would add the hair to the potion before leaving. But before doing so, he paused and licked his lips as he returned his attention to Fleur.

"Um…Read to her." He instructed. "At night, before she sleeps. It-It sounds silly I s'pose, but, but it helps her; comforts her."

"I promise." She agreed giving him a smile for the display of care he had for Hermione.

Ginny reappeared then, wearing an outfit he would never let her leave the house in. Except for now; except because he had to. He watched her give Fleur a hug and come over to stand by him. The siblings shared a look before walking out the door. They met Harry on a hill lush with long grass. Ron remembered wanting to take Hermione for a walk outside once she was up for it. Perhaps Fleur or his Mum would do it in his place. She deserved to be outside; be in the open after so long stuck surrounded by walls.

"Ready?" he heard Harry ask. Ron looked back at the cottage in the distance longingly before giving his attention to the two standing with him.

"Yeah."

Ron added the hair and watched his sister drink it with a disgusting gulp. Before his eyes, his baby sister transformed; morphing into the dirty, hideous form of the depraved Death Eater. Ron felt a rush of panic form in his chest as he looked at her. He felt the pull of memories; screams and darkness and blood. He was barely able to keep from pulling out a wand and cursing the being in front of him.

"How do I look?" she asked shrugging uncomfortably.

It was enough to bring Ron out of the trance. The voice...This was not Bellatrix. This was just an illusion.

"Bloody awful." He managed to answer, realizing he was sweating and hoping neither had noticed his minor freeze up. He could only hope he wouldn't get mixed up in one when they were in the thick of chaos. They couldn't afford it.

Pulling out Bellatrix's wand, he held it out for her to take, while he held on to Hermione's for himself. HE felt it would make justice all the more fulfilling to use her wand to stop them.

"Ready for this?" Harry asked, also having a bit of difficulty seeing Bellatrix's form right in front of them.

Getting a pair of affirming nods, the trio attached their hands to one another so the boys could take Ginny side-along with them. The three of them left, not knowing that not far off Hermione had woken alone and upon doing so gave her attention to the window as she did every morning.

This time she felt her heart begin thudding painfully in her chest. She stumbled on shaking, terrified legs and fell against the window pane.

The dark woman. The one that hurt them.

She was there. She was there!

Ron and the boy, Harry, they were there too. Too close. Too close.

They had to get away. She had to help.

Panicking, she tried to think. Tried to think.

But her thoughts were too muddled and only getting worse as her emotions heightened.

Then they were gone.

Ron.

She took him. She took him away.

No! No! No!

Things got worse in her head and she was having trouble separating past from present.

Ron.

It was her last clear thought before she felt a wave of energy leave her in a great painful burst; before a terribly loud cacophony of shattering invaded her ears and she fell into awaiting silence.

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

**A/N: That was hard to write. I'll update as soon as I can, but I can't say when. Like I said…things aren't great.**


	26. Night Of The Hunter

**A/N: Can't say enough apologies for how long this has taken. But thankfully things are starting to look up. Other than that, I don't have very much to say other than I'm not a huge fan of this chapter but it leads into the next and that's what matters most here. The next one is def a doozy! **

X

* * *

"_Pray to your God, open your heart, Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark."_

'_Night of the Hunter'_ by 30 Seconds to Mars

* * *

X

* * *

Hermione slowly came around.

Her senses returned one at a time, starting with the feel of several sensations over her body. Something soft, if a bit lumpy, was beneath her back while something heavy and warm was draped across her. The next feeling was the resounding ache that covered every inch of her. It caused quite a bit of discomfort and she couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her as she came closer and closer to full consciousness. This felt different than how she normally felt when she woke.

As the rest of her senses came she became terribly sure that feeling wasn't the only thing different about this moment. She could tell by the sounds and smells that were reaching her slowly but surely that she wasn't where she was supposed to be.

Focusing on one thing first, she tried to listen without opening her eyes and letting anyone know she was awake. It was a familiar sound; a voice. She knew that voice.

Slowly she cracked her eyes open, squinting in the light. There was a window nearby, the sun was pouring in and she could see the whiteness of clouds splattered across the sky just as she could every time she woke during the day. It calmed her and she took a deep breath of that feeling.

It gave away to the speaker that she was awake and this was reflected in the sudden pause of the constant stream of words that were spoken.

" 'ermione?" Fleur questioned, placing the marker in the book she'd been reading to the young witch as she slept. She set the text aside and leaned forward in the old chair. She spoke the girl's name once more which got her to turn her head and attention towards the blonde. When their eyes met, the French woman gave her a smile. "Zere you are. 'ow are you feeling?"

Hermione flicked her eyes skittishly around the room before looking back at her. She noticed, with some confusion, the red scratches adorned on the other woman's cheek, jaw and neck.

"FF.." she started, swallowing thickly and trying in vain to transition to the next sound in what she knew to be the woman's name; remnants of sleep still fogged her head and made concentration a bit difficult. Fleur only continued to smile softly and gave a nod of her head, encouraging her to go on. "HHurt."

Fleur frowned before letting out a sigh and shaking her head, pained by the fact that yet again the young woman before her was hurting. How much pain was she to endure? When did it stop? When was it enough?

With these questions raging through her head, Fleur reached for one of the vials Molly had set up for her on the nightstand and holding it out for the girl to drink.

"Zis will 'elp with zee pain." She informed her gently.

But as she moved it toward Hermione's lips, ready to tip it in for her, the girl turned away; closing her mouth and shaking her head side to side.

"You must take zis. It will 'elp you." Fleur tried to argue, but Hermione once again shook her head and tried to make her understand what she was trying to say.

Raising a hand to gesture towards Fleur's face, she spoke again the word, "Hurt."

"Oh." Realization sparked in the Veela and she set the vial down on the table top once more. She touched a delicate hand to her cheek, barely grazing it over one of the red marks.

She'd forgotten all about them. Fleur had been on her way up to Hermione's room after bidding Ron and the others a safe trip. It was when once she was in the hall just outside of it that she was blown back by an explosion of wooden debris and a wave of magical energy. With ringing ears she'd soon found her husband leaning over her, making sure she was alright. She remembered how hazy his features had appeared to her in that moment while his parents and Remus had immediately gone on alert and run towards the source of the destruction.

"Don't worry. Zey are nothing." She dismissed, not allowing the girl to be concerned over something as superficial as a few scratches.

Hermione looked around the room again, searching for a clue as to what was going on. As she once again found her eyes pulled towards the window, flashes of memory came to her of the last time she'd been looking out one.

A strangled cry escaped her as she suddenly shot up to a sitting position. The action surprising Fleur enough to make the woman jump back a bit in her seat before regaining her composure enough to worry over the girl. Before she could try to calm her down, Hermione was already speaking with a shaking, frantic voice.

"Ron." She said his name worriedly. Her body shook as she tried to wrestle the blanket away. "Ron!"

Fleur reached out, trying to catch the girl's arms to prevent her from furthering her attempt to get out of bed, knowing that after such a large display of raw magic, she very well may not be stable enough on her feet to keep herself upright. As soon as she touched the girl, however, Hermione pulled away harshly enough that her momentum caused her to spill off the opposite side of the mattress.

Fleur leapt to her feet while Hermione, seeing the window very near to her, stumbled unsteadily towards it; the glass pane rattling at the impact as her weight came against it through her palms.

Her brow wrinkled up in confusion.

It looked different. Usually when she looked she saw the tall grass going on and on until it became the sandy shore along the water. Now her eyes anxiously took the unfamiliar sight before her. There was still grass but it was different. Yes, it was just as tall, maybe a bit taller, but the colors of it were a little off and instead of leading the way to the water, the long grown grass lead the young witch's eyes to a dense tree line.

She tapped the cool glass with her fingertips and turned to the woman that had appeared beside her to ensure she would be alright standing on her own as well as come to the realization that she was nowhere hear where she thought she was.

"W-What?" she questioned, clearly confused by her new discovery.

"Zere was an accident." Fleur began carefully, licking her lips as she attempted to explain. She knew she wasn't the best choice for it; communicating with Hermione that was.

Her heart swelled and stung at several points during the girl's stay, but there was an obvious obstacle between the two of them; her accent. But Molly was busy and wrought with worry over the events of the early morning, which included finding out that two of her children had disappeared while they slept along with a boy that was as good as a blood Weasley. So Fleur would do her best and began speaking with her promise to Ronald in mind.

"You had anozer…episode of accidental magic." She began, "A big one. Zere was some damage to ze cottage. We are at a place called Ze Burrow. Ze Weazley home."

It was admittedly a risk to come to the Burrow, but the large burst from Hermione had blown a good chunk of the upper level off of their home and everyone seemed cautiously optimistic that the wouldn't warrant any other surprise visitors anytime soon.

Hermione was watching the woman before her with a forced concentration, clearly doing her best to follow along. But her focus was hindered by the screaming question in her mind; so much so that she barely attempted to take in any that the blonde had said to her.

"Ron?" she voiced, continuing quickly afterwards. "Ron….sh-she…" Hermione groaned in frustration at her inability to articulate the important information. She pressed the heel of her hand to her temple as they all had become used to seeing at times such as this. "She…t-took rom." Her breaths came in heavily after she'd accomplished it. "Ron."

It was Fleur's turn to be confused. She thought someone took Ron? A female someone? Ron left with Harry and his sister. Perhaps she thought Ginny had made them leave for some reason. But that didn't make sense at all. Hermione had spent a fair amount of time with the youngest Weasley since she'd arrived. She trusted her. What would make her think he was taken?

"'ermione, " she started, guiding the girl to sit on the bed. As soon as she was sitting, Hermione started to anxiously play with her fingers. "Ron was not taken."

Hermione shook her head after a few seconds. She knew what she saw. The woman was there and she took Ron away!

"I know zis will be 'ard to understand…but Ron left. 'E left to help everyone. Zey are trying to make everysing better."

Hermione vaguely remember Ron saying something similar to this the night before in her room. He said he wanted to go so that he could make her better. But she didn't want him to go. She told him to stay. Then they lied down together. He was staying with her.

"She!" Hermione tried again to get across what she'd seen.

"Who, 'ermione?" she asked. "Ginny?"

Hermione shook her head and replied with the only thing she knew to call the woman she'd seen.

"D-Dark." She replied, her voice shaking at the mere mention of her.

Before Fleur could voice her question, Hermione's hands scrambled to the white bandaging on her arm, ripping it back with a wince even as Fleur reached out to stop her; a half spoke 'No.' barely making it out of the French woman's mouth.

Hermione didn't spare a glance at the word as she held her arm for her to see. Her troubled eyes looked pleadingly into Fleur's for understanding.

It was all she wanted. It was what she desperately needed more than anything; just to have someone understand her.

Ron understood.

Where was Ron?"

X

* * *

X

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked between pants once he was on his feet; adrenalines still rampant from the long drop down. It was lucky Harry thought to slow their momentum with a spell or the journey would've ended with them in pieces on the rocks.

He cast his eyes toward Ginny and was surprised to see she once again wore her natural looks. Touching his hands to his own face, he felt that his features had also returned to normal. He next looked to Harry, whose shoulders were heaving up and down in his own heavy breathing. Getting himself under control, Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and retrained his wand on the goblin who'd brought them this far thanks to Harry's use of the Imperius.

The three teens followed the zoned out creature moving to obey his instructions. He felt his eyes widen at the screech of sound that reached their ears as they went further. Ron recognized what it meant right before he saw it. He was confirmed as they came into the grand room; Ginny taking a step back into him as their eyes came upon the enormous dragon. Pale and scarred and chained, the creature was making the most awful sound mixture of anger and pain.

Ron briefly let his mind flick through his knowledge of dragons bestowed upon him through Charlie's tales, searching for what type of dragon it was. As his mind worked to do this, the creature let out another screech and surprisingly began to cower away as their goblin leader started shaking a pair of bells in his direction. The sound of the bells triggering such a response from the dragon brought forth a memory before Ron could help it.

He remembered the way the sound of that heavy door opening made Hermione retreat in fear, much the same way the creature before them did now. The association she made between that sound and the pain she was served daily.

"Ron."

Ginny hissed for his attention, bringing him back to the present where the other two were currently waiting for him to snap out of it and follow. Shaking his head, he swallowed thickly and noticed all the space between the group and himself.

"Right." He spoke to himself and moved his feet.

He had to focus. He couldn't freeze up. It was too dangerous; way too dangerous.

As they made it to the vault, he watched Harry's eyes begin to search already through the many treasures for a sign of what the horcrux could be. If there even was one there, that is. Merlin, Ron hoped he'd been right; he had to be. There had to be one here. If there wasn't, it meant his dream was only that; just a dream and Hermione wasn't trying to reach him.

Ginny put her hand on his arm, making her brother tense up at the sudden unexpected contact.

"Ron?" she questioned him with concern. "Are you ok?"

Her brother briefly met her eyes before looking away, distracting himself with alt he valuables in the room.

"Fine." He said unconvincingly.

"You thinking of Hermione?" she asked unnecessarily. He cleared his throat and looked down momentarily as he scratched at his jaw.

"A bit." He answered, clearing his throat. "Wondering how she's doing."

"She's alright." Ginny nodded. "They'll all take care of her, you know that."

"Yeah, I just…"he trailed off before shaking his head. "Never mind."

He turned back to scanning the treasures, wondering how in the world he was to tell what the horcrux was. He cringed at the knowledge that everything around him belonged to _her_. These priceless, beautiful objects belonged to the most despicable woman he'd ever met. Her twisted smile, her demented laugh and evil, soulless eyes…

It was like she was standing in front of him. He could smell her rancid breath as if she were breathing inches from his face.

The abrupt noise snapped Ron away from his imagination; he jumped in surprise accidentally knocking over a thick golden band with his elbow. The three watched with morbid fascination as it hit the floor and bounced with several loud clangs, duplicating itself as it went.

Stepping back from it, they watched as one several. Ginny backed away quickly, bumping into a candelabrum that repeated the actions.

"Harry!" Ron shouted to Harry who began to work his way to the cup that seemed to whisper out to him.

Everything they touched doubled and doubled several times over and every moment that passed the room became more crowded with the multiplying items. Items that, Ron wasn't happy to learn, burned to touch as if they'd been held over a lively flame. After what felt like an eternity without relief from the overcrowded vault, he heard his mate give a triumphant proclamation that he'd gotten it. With this small victory, the three made their way out of the vault; hot metal trinkets spilling out alongside them.

No reprieve was to be had, however, as a jet of light shot by inches from Ron's face. Jolting back from it to hide behind one of the stone pillars that surrounded the room housing the still screeching dragon, Ron called out without looking.

"Harry?"

"Fine!" He heard Harry shout back to assure him of his safety, followed by his sister doing the same.

"What now?" Ginny asked over the sound of the bombarding spells and curses being shot in their direction. Her fingers twitched with want to fight back, but forced herself to use restraint.

Ron's heart thudded loudly in his chest as he tried to think. What were they supposed to do? It was always Hermione that came up with the plan…and when that plan didn't go smoothly, she thought quickly enough to come up with another.

"This way!" he heard the chosen one call out amidst the blasts and shouts.

Ron quickly turned, following up the rear as the three hurried up the spiral stone steps, occasionally ducking jets and debris. Chunks of stone and clouds of dust scattered and invaded the space of their retreat.

Skidding to a sudden halt as some of the shots changed approach. Now blasting in front of them as well, effectively trapping them between the two halves of the attack once they made it to the upper level, they were stuck.

Ron threw his hands up as a piece of the pillar he took refuge behind broke off and the heat of the blast lingered behind.

This was bad. This was very bad.

"We need to do something!" He shouted over to the girl a few feet away hiding behind her own damaged sanctuary. When he got now response from her, he tried again to encourage something to happen. "Come on, Hermione!"

It took him a moment of looking into the wide eyes looking back at him and a sudden shriek of another all-too-close blast to realize what he'd done.

"Ginny." He corrected, feeling foolish for letting himself slip like that. Of course Hermione wasn't next to him in this. "Any ideas?"

"Maybe." She replied. "Suppose it may not matter about the trace right about now?"

"They already know we're here." Harry reasoned, knowing there was really no reason to be cautious about that at this point. "If you have something, do it."

"It's mad." Ginny warned.

"Do it!" Ron shouted over another hunk of stone blasting off the beam at his back. Soon it wouldn't exist at all anymore and he'd be a sitting duck.

He was treated to exactly how mad his sister's idea was when the red head suddenly pulled away from the pillar at her back and took off at a run.

"Ginny!" the boys shouted in unison as she made a terrifying leap over the rail, landing on the hard, dry scales of the dragon.

"Come on!" she hollered up to them, adjusting her hands so she was holding as tightly as possible while keeping low that none of the dark wizards on the ground could aim at her.

The boys could barely hear her order to them. Ron met Harry's eyes, sharing a nod of agreement before mimicking the actions of the youngest Weasley. There was the briefest moment of falling before Ron hit the rough hide with a grunt and almost rolled off the thick skinned creature altogether before his hands found a lucky grip.

As he tightened his hold, a blast flew from Bellatrix's wand, breaking the chain that kept the tortured dragon grounded. Another spark followed, this time aimed at the back end of the dragon itself and motivating it to move.

His stomach lurched at the sudden movement and he clenched his hands tightly on the creatures back as it began its upward escape.

"Hang on!"

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

**A/N: Fun fact…spell check hates Fleur talk.**


	27. Run

**A/N: So I've been super busy. I've put my name in for several more hospital jobs but meanwhile, I've become super broke and have taken up a job at the deli down the street to cushion my account. Good for my wallet, not so good for my free time. Alright, here we go and I hope you like it!**

***This is one of my all-time favorite songs ever. I still get chills when I hear it and when they played this at the concert I'm not too proud to say that tears appeared. My good friend and I dubbed it our song and now it's been a little over a year since his death. I can't say enough about it. When I wrote this chapter it was easily the only song that came to mind for it.**

X

* * *

"_To think I might not see those eyes, Makes it so hard not to cry."_

'_Run' _by Snow Patrol

* * *

X

Fleur spent several minutes with the distraught young witch. Each moment that passed saw Hermione trying harder and harder to have the French woman understand, and Fleur doing all she could to grasp the message she tried to convey. She wasn't sure how long it had been before it clicked.

Bellatrix.

Now that she figured it out, it was only obvious answer there could be.

Hermione was telling her Bellatrix had taken Ronald. That was the "she" the Gryffindor spoke of with such fear. The look of relief on Hermione's face when she realized Fleur got it was met with a confused one on the older woman's.

Understanding what she was saying only perplexed Fleur even more.

Bellatrix?

Bellatrix had not taken the boy, or either of the other two who left with him. She knew this for a fact. Ronald had told her of their plan and bid her his farewells before leaving of his own volition. She knew this for a fact, Fleur was sure of it.

But looking upon Hermione, she could see the girl was just as certain of what she was saying. In her eyes, there was a desperate certainty. In her mind, Hermione was absolutely positive that it was true.

This caused an unwelcome chisel of doubt in her. Was it possible Hermione spoke true? Was there a chance she had seen the LeStrange woman somehow take them?

Fleur cleared her throat, forcing those doubts away, and reached out slowly so as not to scare Hermione. Laying her hand over the paler one on the blanket, Fleur offered her a shining smile of reassurance as she spoke.

" 'Ermione, I promise you…ze Death Eaters do not know of our safe 'ouses. Bellatrix 'as not found ze cottage. "She explained, hoping she was telling the complete truth. "Ronald and 'arry and Ginny left of zeir own choice. Zey will return safely."

Hermione looked down, her mouth slack and her eyes running back and forth as her mind worked to process what he was told. Fleur could see that she was becoming stressed once more amidst the attempts going on within her. Hoping to keep it from exacerbating too much, the young wife quickly changed the subject.

"Are you 'ungry?" she questioned, getting the girl to look up at her. "Should I fix you something to eat?"

At the word 'eat' Hermione nodded very clearly. Fleur gave her a sincere smile in return, happy with the progress Hermione had made to this point; including in her eating habits. She had begun finishing off helpings completely and sometimes even taking seconds, and had even recently been upgraded with Molly's confidence to dishes of greater substance.

She gave her hand a few soft pats before rising to go to the kitchen. Hermione watched her leave the room, an inkling in her mind started. She wasn't completely sure what it was, but it felt like restlessness; like she had to do something, but what?

She continued to sit alone in the new bedroom, her fingers fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. Well, the shirt she was wearing, anyway. Did it belong to her? If not, would they be mad if she wanted to keep it?

As she thought this over, her eyes fell to the still exposed markings on her forearm. Staring at it, Hermione couldn't help but think about the dark woman; what she'd done to her and what she could be doing to Ron.

Her gaze then went to the bedroom door the woman had just left through. Did Fleur go to help Ron?

She had to shake her head and remember that Fleur mentioned food. That's what she was going to do, not to get help.

Because she didn't understand.

Hermione pulled her knees up to her chest and pressed her forehead into them while her arms wrapped around them. She pressed herself as tightly as she could, biting her lip to let out the anger she was feeling.

Fleur didn't understand.

Of course she didn't. She couldn't because Hermione didn't say it right.

The girl moved her arms so her hands held the sides of her head. The more she thought about it, the louder it got in her head. She never said it right. Now the woman would hurt Ron and he wouldn't get help. It was her fault. It was all her fault.

Angry still as she continued this train of thought, she began pulling on her hair before switching to beating her hands against her head; letting out angered grunts as she did.

If she was like she was supposed to be, if she was right then she could do it. If she was right she could make them understand and it would be ok and Ron would be ok. But she wasn't right; she was wrong. She was so very wrong that they locked her away. She was supposed to be in the dark place. It's where wrong things belong.

Why did Ron take her out then?

_He_ was right. He was good and he smelled nice and felt warm and she liked his hair and his voice.

He needed help.

The inkling presented itself again; this time feeling stronger and clearer. She knew what it wanted. She was supposed to leave the room and follow Fleur to find someone. Make them understand. Help Ron. Do it.

Getting to her feet, she crept to the door and cautiously out into the unfamiliar hall. She began walking until she found the stairs and listened. Though muffled by the distance between them, she could hear voices. Not clearly, but well enough to know they were downstairs.

She continued to listen for the voices so she could find her way to the source. Eventually, she found herself at an entryway where the voices became clear. Keeping to the wall, Hermione peeked inside to see the familiar group around a small table.

"…certain that's what she meant?" Molly asked: no one in the room aware of the eavesdropper. The older woman wrung her withering hands as she continued. "She does her best, but the poor child can barely get the words out. Perhaps you misunderstood what she meant to say."

Fleur sighed and crossed her arms over her chest while her husband kept an arm around her shoulders for support.

"Zere was no misunderstanding." She said with a bit of exhaustion in her tone. " 'Ermione iz positive zat zey were taken by Bellatrix."

Arthur spoke first before his wife could.

"And you're sure it isn't so?" he asked. "You know for a fact they left on their own and not by force?"

"Qui." She nodded. "Zey gave me zeir goodbye before leaving."

"And you just let them." Molly shook her head. "How could you? How could you stand by and allow children to fly off to who-knows-where in these dangerous times?"

Hermione was following the quick paced conversation as best she could though it was proving to be difficult. She was soon thrown from her focus when the red haired woman suddenly rose; waving at something the man was saying and taking the lid off the pot on the stove. The smell hit her nostrils and inspired a small vibration in her stomach.

She didn't come back to the words until she heard the younger man speak.

"It isn't the first they've rushed off, Mum." He offered, obviously trying to comfort the woman. "They know the risks and they want to do their part. They always have-"

"And look what's come of it." Molly interrupted sharply. Normally she tried to be understanding of the life choices her children made, but she was far too upset by the day's developments. "Look what they've been through because of it; at what's become of that girl upstairs! Unless the impossible comes to pass…that someone, somewhere knows the old magic, she'll never be as she once was."

"We mustn't think like that, dear." Arthur told her, now standing in front of his wife.

"Mustn't we?" she replied. "This is war, Arthur. Battles such as these aren't meant to be fought by children."

"I know." He began, running a hand up and down her arm. He opened his mouth to say more but was interrupted by two loud cracks that made Hermione jump in place.

Two men appeared. They had hair like the others and looked the same as each other except for one boy only had one ear.

"It's happening." They said at the same time.

"What?" Molly asked, Bill and Fleur now rose to their feet as well. The boys began to alternate speaking making it terribly difficult for Hermione to pay attention.

"Harry and Ron…"

"…and Ginny…"

"…came to Hogwarts."

"Got the message through our coins…"

"…that they showed in Hogsmead. They say they're looking for something."

"Something that will help kill him."

"While they search the castle…"

"…we're rallying the troops."

"Go to Hogsmead…"

"And old Aberforth will get us in…"

"Discretely." They finished in unison once again.

"Then it's really happening." Bill spoke subconsciously tightening his hold on his wife's arm. "We fight."

"Tonight." Fred and George said together again as they both nodded their heads.

"Right then, we go." Arthur spoke up, straightening his back and easily assuming the position of leading his family. He looked at the French woman specifically. "Fleur, you'll stay to tend to Hermione."

As much as she didn't like the idea of sending her family off to a fight without her, and with such dangerous odds of returning, Fleur knew it was necessary. Someone had to remain to take care of the fragile girl.

"If she continues to speak of Bellatrix?" she questioned; looking for advice. "Or asks after anyone?"

The Weasley parents shared a look before Molly spoke up.

"Continue as you are; give her the food and perhaps a bath later on. If she mentions it, tell her Bellatrix hasn't touched the boys." She nodded at Fleur as she spoke, feeling tears burn at her eyes. "Tell her Ron is well and we've gone to get him."

Hermione heard the last part with abrupt recognition.

They were going to get Ron! They would make sure he was ok!

She remembered how Ron took care of her; how he got her from the dark place and helped her. She wanted to do that for him. She wanted to help him the way he helped her.

She watched from her spot as the two who looked the same disappeared loudly. She bit her lip. She wanted to help. Next, the man who put his lips on Fleur's cheek disappeared the same way.

Suddenly, Hermione felt her legs propel her forward suddenly. Just as she was met with a look of disbelief from Fleur, she was already grabbing hold of Molly's arm and then the painful pulling and twisting tearing her away.

Fleur couldn't get by the by the shock of what happened until the couple had already vanished from the house with the stowaway.

"'Ermione!" she called the girl's name with delayed reaction and looked around as if to make sure she hadn't imagined it somehow.

After concluding that it _had_ actually happened, Fleur could only let out a shaky breath before focusing her mind. A loud crack echoed in the now empty house as the last occupant vanished.

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**


	28. All Around Me

**A/N: It's been a long time hasn't it? Well I've moved since we've last 'spoken' and to be completely honest, after I read all the reviews you amazing people gave me for the last chapter I realized…"Holy Frak! Everyone is really excited that I'm getting to the Big Battle and they all have huge expectations!" So I'm crazy nervous and want to do justice to the battle and to you guys for being so great to me and this little journey I'm taking the characters on. We've only got a handful of chapters left. **

**So very nervous about taking on the battle. Be gentle?**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**X**

_"I can feel you all around me_

_Thickening the air I'm breathing"_

_'All Around Me' _by Flyleaf

**X**

* * *

Hermione's feet hit the ground hard and she found herself stumbling towards it as well as she lost her balance and hold on the older witch. Molly turned to face the girl as soon as she landed. Her shock and fear for the girl's wellbeing manifested in anger as she prepared to berate Hermione even as the girl landed in the dirt with a grunt.

"Hermione Granger!" she started, ignoring the groan that came from the young witch on the ground whose forehead was pressed into the dirt as her arms wrapped around her nauseous stomach.

Knowing it was the effects of the apparating on her fragile body, Molly did not keep from continuing to glare at the girl with a harsh eye and a sharp tongue. Another crack came before she could speak any further and she was soon looking at her frazzled daughter-in-law.

Molly was on the urge of releasing her tirade upon Fleur, who immediately went to Hermione's side and doubled checked her state while the young witch nearly vomited onto the earth.

"We don't have time." Arthur said with a quiet, yet rushed certainty. "Before we're seen."

The group, with Fleur guiding Hermione, disappeared into the designated building. Once they were in safer standing, Molly whirled around at Fleur and Hermione.

"Fleur, take Hermione home this instant." She ordered.

The Veela nodded in complete agreement but Hermione knew what they wanted and would have none of it. She pulled herself away from the blonde woman's touch violently.

"Ron." She stated to Molly with a pleading in her eyes.

The Weasley matriarch was trying to keep some form of patience by reminding herself of the girl's mental status but it was difficult.

"Dear…we're going to fetch Ron, but it may take some time. Go with Fleur and-"

"No." Hermione forced out as soon as she realized the look the woman was giving her. It was a look that they all showed her when they were going to deny her what she was asking for.

"Ron." She repeated then pressed her lips together tightly and struggled through her argument. "Ron h-help mme..Me hhelp-" she shook her head in almost a flinch as she let out a grunt. That didn't sound right.

"I." she finally realized was what she wanted to say instead. "I help Ron."

Molly's expression softened despite herself.

"We don't have time for guessing games or English lessons." Aberforth cut in harshly earning glares from Molly and Fleur. The gruff man gave no indication of noticing or caring. "If you're going, go; if not get somewhere safe and stay there. Things are going to get ugly fast."

X

* * *

X

Ron was livid.

Snape got away; the greasy bastard took off and Ron was furious. Already beyond angry, it a amazing display of timing that the doors of the Great Hall had opened to reveal The Order's arrival like a glorious cavalry. But it wasn't the group that he gave his attention to, it was behind them.

He saw Fleur with one hand holding her wand and the other on the arm of a very familiar brunette. Fleur appeared to be taking Hermione down the hall. He saw red at the knowledge that Hermione was there and not safely at the cottage. Why would they bring her there? Didn't they understand how incredibly dangerous it could become very quickly?

His grip on Hermione's wand tightened immeasurably. Ignoring his family, friends and other Order members, Ron took large steps towards the two in the hallway.

Hermione saw him first and, not registering his angry demeanor, broke into a smile.

"Ron." She said his name happily and shook off Fleur's grip. She took two steps before he was upon her and she found herself right away putting her arms around his midsection and holding herself against him. He was ok.

Ron was caught off guard by her quick move to the intimacy of the embrace. So surprised, was Ron that he momentarily forgot his anger as he felt her holding him and burrowing close into his warmth. When he didn't raise his own arms to hug her back, Hermione pulled away slightly; confused by his lack of action.

He was supposed to hold her when she held him…unless she was doing it wrong?

"What you doing here?" he asked harshly; his anger stemming from the absolute terror that she could yet again be taken from him.

Hermione looked surprised that he'd asked that. Wasn't he happy that she came to help him? She came to get him away from the woman who took him.

"Help." She answered softly, suddenly nervous in his presence. Her voice was very nearly lost among the noise of the heated discussion in the Great Hall just a few feet away from where they stood.

"What's she doing here?" he directed his question now to Fleur.

"She grabbed 'old of your mozer before she could apparate." Fleur explained. "She fears for your safety Ronald. She wishes to 'elp."

"You know bloody well she can't help." He said through clenched teeth and leaning towards Fleur with his lowered voice so Hermione wouldn't hear the negativity he spoke.

"Qui." She answered in agreement. "I was taking 'er to ze infirmary. Ze most secure place in 'ogwarts, non?"

"Besides the dungeons, yeah." Ron responded.

He let out a sigh and ran his hand up and down Hermione's arm as he turned his attention to her.

"You go along with Fleur, alright? She'll take care of you 'til I can join you."

He looked at Fleur as he said the last part like a question and got a nod from the part Veela in return. He gave Hermione his full focus once more and offered her a warm, albeit, forced, smile. She instantly shook her head in response. Still shaking it when she stepped up close to him again. Her hands quivered as she placed them on either side of his face. He didn't know if the small tremors he felt were due to her emotions or the sometimes presented effects of her torture, but he felt the shivers against his cheeks and watched the intense eyes that looked into his.

"Stay." She said to him, reminding him so much of lying in her bed that night when she begged the same of him.

"Hermione-" he tried to argue and was silenced by the pad of her thumb touching his lips. He felt his insides quiver as it ran back and forth with a feather-like lightness.

"Stay." She said again. "Stay with Ron. Pllease."

Merlin, Ron didn't think there would ever be a harder test of will power. He felt his hands resting on her still protruding hip bones, a far cry from the soft curves he'd imagined touching in his head countless nights. He'd completely forgotten Fleur's presence; forgotten that there was anyone else anywhere…even forgot where he was standing.

He'd drifted so far from the actual world that when he heard a loud voice addressed their way, he very literally jumped in surprise.

"Miss Granger!" the heavily accented voice of Professor McGonagall being that which brought him back to reality.

He turned and saw the wide eyes and open mouth of the Transfiguration Professor as she laid her sight on the thought-lost Gryffindor. The woman's aged eyes took in the appearance of her star pupil. The many pounds left off her fram and the pale complexion, even the shortness of her signature mane of hair…all of it sent shock waves through Minerva McGonagall. Her heart ached for the girl before her as she saw with her own eyes that while she'd been mourned as dead she'd clearly been suffering a worse fate.

She took a few steps towards the girl that without a doubt would've been made Head Girl if the circumstances had allowed it so, and was surprised to witness Hermione recoil and step back from her; placing Ron between them as her protector. Ron sent an apologetic look towards the Head of House and wished to explain. The old woman's announcement, however, served to grab the attention of several others nearby.

Hermione Granger?

Her sudden appearance was almost as exciting as Harry Potter's. It certainly added to the growing sea of excitement and intensity (and even a tentative hope) that now surged through all the Hogwarts students and teachers.

Ron could see it on the faces that now crowded them. There was hope. There was a way to fight and a chance to win. This could end. He knew he'd feel it more if hadn't managed to get away. The cowardly bastard taking off into the night before Ron could get his hands on him and demand he fix Hermione.

Hermione.

The girl was now clutching his arm tightly as more and more old friends and classmates crowded closer around where they stood. Everyone was speaking and questioning the seemingly "resurrected" Gryffindor girl. Ron could see her becoming more and more uncomfortable. The voices were blending together and becoming a roar around them. Ron did his best to be a voice of reason but he was barely heard amongst them all. Between Harry and now Hermione, there was just too much for everyone to talk about.

It was when Neville, however, in ignorance of all she'd been though, put a hand on her shoulder as he came to see her that the crowd of students got a shock. At the unexpected contact amidst the overwhelming swarm of people, Hermione let out a airy shriek and flinched violently before throwing her body to the floor. Pulling in on herself and keeping her hands and arms over her head protectively.

"That's enough. Everyone back off." Ron ordered in a loud bellow as loud as he could manage and stood in front of the huddled form. A few stragglers remained stuck in spot observing the scene, so Ron took his instruction to the next level. Holding his wand out in front of him threateningly, he repeated himself. "Get back!"

This time everyone gave them space, stepping back several feet, clearly shocked by the actions of both members of the trio. The people around him fell silent and all Ron could really hear was his own drumming heart and the uneven breaths of panic coming from the girl behind him.

"Hermione's been through a lot, hear?" he explained, remaining purposefully vague. "So just give 'er some space."

He saw nods of agreement all around and , surprisingly, what almost looked like understanding from…Lavender?

He wondered what exactly had happened since he'd last attended the beloved castle school. How awful must it have been living under the rule of Snape and his friends and having to act like everything was fine? Just another ordinary year of school?

He passed on the thoughts and returned his attention to Hermione, squatting in front of her and speaking soft promises of safety. He ran a hand through his hair and forced down a much needed scream of frustration. The horcruxes, Harry, Voldemort, Hogwarts, Ginny, Hermione…it was all rolling around in a vicious whirlwind within his skull and he was far passed feeling overwhelmed by it all.

The one thing that had given him any small sense of relief or comfort had been Hermione; knowing she was safe and sound at the cottage and away from any immediate danger.

She was supposed to be safe.

And then out of nowhere, bang, there she was in the middle of what's to be the most dangerous place in the entire wizarding world. What could he do?

Apparating was still impossible on the school grounds. The Death Eaters were descending and crawling all over Hogsmead so Aberforth's tunnel was out as well.

He was brought out of these thoughts by a sudden stabbing pain in the back of his skull. He rolled his head on his neck, hoping to relieve some of what he assumed to be a stress headache.

Ron heard a whimper and ignored any discomfort he was feeling and instead looked worriedly upon Hermione. He saw her hands clamping tightly to the sides of her head and her face contorted in a tight grimace. He reached out, cupping her cheek with one hand while the other swept hair away from her forehead before running it over her hair.

"What is it?" he meant to ask, but even thinking the words caused the pain in his head to spike, so he got no further than opening his mouth.

Then someone was screaming…then someone else.

He gave a glance around the room to see that everyone seemed to be in the same position as the two of them. Everybody looked to be in great pain and clutched at their skulls red faced and tense. He looked back to Hermione and discovered she was attempting to say his name. Her agony was making her already impaired speech even more of a challenge.

With her eyes clenched shut and every inch of her tensed, Ron was terrified what sort of regression this strange attack –and he had no doubt that it was a planned attack and not some obscure happenstance- would have on her healing progression. He went completely to his knees, perhaps only an inch from her, and grabbed the sides of her head; covering her hands with his own in the process and leaned forward. He pressed his forehead to hers and could immediately feel the slickness of sweat between them. His? Hers? Both?

He held himself there, swallowing thickly against the pain and closing his eyes as well while speaking through the nauseating torrent and over the ringing in his ears.

"I'm here. I'm here. I'm with you."

He had no way to know if he was actually succeeding in comforting her. But he kept repeating himself.

After a few seconds that felt like a lot longer, the pain lessened a breath and then a voice…the chilling voice of a demon filled his head and echoed in his ears.

As soon as he heard the voice of the evil wizard, he felt Hermione jerk her hands out from under his nad they slapped against the backs of his as she now held on to his for dear life. This told him she heard it too.

The voice.

It spoke of an attack, of people dying, of awful promises…unless Harry Potter was turned over.

And then…it was over.

The voice and the pain vanished simultaneously. Ron let out a shuddering breath as he felt a cold sweat coating his body and his hammering heart threatening to burst his ribcage.

Blimey, was that how Harry felt every time he was connected to _him_? Ron had a new level of appreciation for his friend. Shaking his head to clear the fog left in the wake of it, he focused his eyes on the Hermione who still held his hands in as tight a grip as she could manage.

"Hermione." He spoke her name gently, attempting to calm her down. "Hermione, it's over. It's ok."

He prayed the damage from the surprise tactic wasn't much; he'd been through to much recently to believe that there would be absolutely none at all. He said her name a few more times, asking her to open her eyes, to look at him.

He was so focused on her that he didn't notice the commotion happening just beyond them and in the Great Hall. A ruckus caused by Pansy and other Slytherins who wanted to take the offer and give Harry up to spare a fight.

After a moment Hermione's mouth moved, other than to take the great quivering gasps of air she had been using it solely for until now.

"What" he asked, hoping to hear what she was trying to say to him or herself, he wasn't sure which.

"Sn-Snake. Snake. Snake." She muttered to herself over and over still not opening her eyes to him.

"Are you guys alright?" Ron heard the familiar voice ask coming up beside him. He turned and saw Harry gazing worriedly between them.

"Just shook up a bit." Ron excused, not wanting Harry to feel guilty if it was anything more than that for their mutual friend. His blue eyes narrowed at a thought that came to him.

"You're not gonna do it, are you?" Ron asked accusingly, knowing how self-sacrificing his best mate could be.

Harry shook his head in response, keeping silent his actual response of 'not yet'. There was still the lost diadem to find, the cup to destroy and the snake to kill. The it was just him.

"McGonagall is getting the other teachers, they're strengthening the wards around the castle and everyone is getting in positions." Harry informed him. "Ron, even with all of it, the wards won't hold forever."

"I know." Ron agreed reluctantly.

The message Harry wasn't saying out loud was clear. It would be getting dangerous soon.

"I'll take her to the infirmary." Ron stated, looking at Hermione whose breathing seemed to be slowing to a more normal pace. "She'll be safer there. Maybe we can end it, then, before it gets to the point where…"

Harry nodded and followed his friends gaze to where Hermione was now watching them. Harry gave her a smile and a nod.

"Alright, Hermione?" he asked lightly.

She looked around them first and touched a hand to the side of her head, before answering.

"Snake." As if it explained what happened.

Harry laid a gentle hand on her knee and (relieved that she hadn't pulled away from him) gave it a gentle squeeze and offered her a small smile. He then nodded to Ron.

"You take care of her, I'll look for the diadem."

"Careful, mate."

"You too."

Then he was leaving and they were watching him disappear among the crowds. Ron felt a sharp pang in his chest. Was that the last time he'd see his friend? His eyes cast over the active sea of people. Everyone moving, everyone going somewhere with a purpose; the professors giving directions and orders and the students quick to follow.

How many of them, people he'd grown up with for years and called friend, would be gone forever before the night was over? Who would be left? What would become of them? There was no use in pretending that it could end all shiny and happy. Win or lose, what happened in the coming hours would change them all forever.

"Come here, Hermione." He instructed, holding his hands out for her to take. "Come with me."

The unsteady grip held on to him as they rose together. He began leading her in the direction of the Hospital Wing, already concocting his explanation to Madame Pomfrey in his head. As they walked, dodging and sidestepping people going this way and that, he noticed Hermione was continuously looking around. At first, he'd thought she was jumpy due to the active environment, the most charged place she'd been in since they fled Malfoy Manor. But he realized soon enough that it wasn't the case.

She wasn't jumping at all the movement and the sounds, at least not exclusively, she was looking for something; expecting something.

"What is it?" he asked as he moved them out of the way of a speeding Seamus. "What you looking for?"

Hermione turned her head from side to side, glancing over their surroundings without answering him.

"Hermione?" his brow wrinkled in concern…_more_ concern, he couldn't remember the last time he wasn't worried about something.

He got her attention again and this time she licked her lips and spoke to him in response.

"Snake." She spoke in an almost whisper, as if saying it too loud would bring that which she feared down upon her.

Ron knew from all the time he spent with her that she wasn't merely talking about a reptile. In her mind, somehow, she'd come to know Voldemort as the 'Snake' and occasionally 'Snake Man'. She'd heard him in her head along with everyone else, and was now expecting him to jump out from every corner and strike her down with a flick of his wand.

He tried to ease her even though he knew she was right to be afraid.

"He's not here." Ron half-lied; knowing that he was nearby the school somewhere. "No snakes in the castle. Well, unless you count the Slytherins."

He smirked to himself, imagining how Hermione would reprimand him for his remark. Ever the advocate of fairness and equality, even for Slytherins. She wouldn't let him generalize them all like that. He figured out after a while of thinking she was being naïve, that it was because she was charged every day in this world with the task of proving herself against the blanket beliefs purebloods held for muggleborns.

Not all Slytherins were snakes, he supposed…reluctantly. He shook his head and began to step again, allowing the girl to follow as he continued to speak to her in hopes that it would remove some of her fears.

"Only actual snake ever been in here was the bas-" He cut himself off from his own sentence and halted his steps to Hermione's surprise. Ron then spoke again, this time to himself. "Basilisk."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the beaded bag he'd gotten back from Harry. With one hand still holding Hermione's, he studied the bag in his other, remembering the cup they'd retrieved from the vault that was stashed within it.

Basilisk venom.

He looked at Hermione, her face betraying her confusion at his sudden halt. Ron now had a solid idea, he thought, and Hermione had inspired it. Just as he was certain it had actually been Hermione trying to communicate to him during his dream that led them to Gringott's, he now wondered if this was another such instance or just a well-timed coincidence. Either way, he had to act quickly before the opportunity of time disappeared.

His blue eyes again glanced from the bag to Hermione. They could make this one detour before the Hospital Wing. They had to take advantage of time while they had it, and this would be simple….he hoped. He could protect her, he promised himself. While there was no direct threat on the grounds just yet, he could keep her safe easily. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, not again.

They just had to make this one stop.

"This way." He told her, taking her in a different direction now.

Hermione followed his lead and the two headed off towards the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**


	29. Love is Blindness

**A/N: Been forever? Yes. Personal things happening? Yes. **

**X**

* * *

"_Love is blindness, I don't wanna see_

_Won't you wrap the night around me"_

'_Love is Blindness'_ by U2

X

* * *

X

Going from memory to find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was easy enough, especially since it had been one of the things that lived in his nightmares for a long time; nearly losing his baby sister in his second –her first - year at school.

Ron tread quickly and carefully, having to be aware of everything twice over. Once for himself and once for Hermione. Hermione, who to her credit, was doing a fine job of keeping up with him. One look at her weathered form would make any onlooker assume she'd be holding up or slowing down any who travelled with her. Ron felt certain however that the strength she found to keep up was powered by adrenaline from all that was happening as well as a deep rooted fear of losing sight of him.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like for her to be left on her own in the large castle, especially when so chaotic. A small hiccup came when they found themselves at the elaborate door that required parseltongue to permit passage. Calling on his many memories of hearing Harry speak it, Ron made an attempt at saying…something. Ron noticed Hermione snap her eyes at him as the various hissing sounds escaped him awkwardly. He thought for a split second she would become afraid of him now, for who knew if she'd been around him when Voldemort had spoken in such a way to his precious pet. To his great relief, she only squeezed his hand tighter; distracting him enough so they both jumped when a large clank sounded and the heavy iron snakes on the door began to slither around.

Spotting the skeletal remains of the Basilisk was the easiest thing Ron had done since starting out on the hunt all those many months ago. The large bones kept shape of the terrifying creature that had plagued students and teachers the entirety of their second year.

Again he felt her hand tighten noticeably around his. He could feel the tremors wracking the small limb and felt her steps falter. She took in the sight with wide fearful eyes, not knowing why Ron brought her there.

He came to a stop, and Hermione swallowed thickly as she looked up at how very _big_ it was…and they were so close to it.

Why were they so close to it?

She took a step back and tugged on Ron's hand.

"Ron," she said his name in a quiet terror, as if she were afraid being too loud might somehow wake the long dead beast and set it upon them. She tugged his arm once more, desperation in her hushed voice. "Ron."

But instead of going with her, the young man took another step forward and, to her horror, let go of her hand.

"No." she said quickly, scrambling for his hold once again.

Ron turned to her and put a hand on either arm.

"Hey, Hey." He spoke in a quick, yet gentle tone easily seeing the panic that was overtaking her by the moment. "It's ok."

She shook her head frantically, then pointing at the serpent's decomposing shape.

"No, No listen." He continued, putting his palms on her cheeks to get her to focus on him. He waited until her wild eyes were on his.

"It's alright. That, see, that's not gonna hurt us. But I have to go up there and grab one of the fangs. We need it, ok? It's going to help us."

Hermione's eyes darted back and forth between Ron's face and the looming Basilisk he gestured to. He didn't give her much time to think on his words before he was already removing himself from her hold once more; hoping the smile he gave her while doing so was reassuring.

Taking out the fang was a bit more difficult that he imagined it would be, but with added force and a soft grunt he was able to pull away one of the deadly bones. Hermione had spent the entire time watching him shuffling her feet nervously, clasping and unclasping her hands and touching the ever-present scar she adorned.

She didn't like this.

She didn't like being here.

She wanted Ron to take her back to the house.

She wanted him to read to her.

When he hopped down from the creature, fang in hand like a trophy, he approached her with a triumphant grin. Hermione saw him holding up the object to show her and she hoped it meant they could leave; now that he had what he wanted.

"Got it." He stated, holding the fang in one hand while he lowered himself to the ground; his other hand already rummaging through the beaded bag. After a fairly quick search through it, he removed the cup they'd retrieved from the vault.

Hermione watched, her brows knitting together as Ron went about these actions without a word of explanation. He set the polished trinket before him and her confusion became curiosity. Ron licked his lips and adjusted his fingers on the fang as he tried to prepare himself for whatever games it would try to play with him when the horcrux realized he meant to kill it.

The redhead didn't notice Hermione had knelt down beside him until he saw her pale hand nearing the cup. Reacting instantly, Ron's eyes widened and his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away easily.

"Don't!" he shouted as he did so, noticing too late that he'd grabbed her quite hard.

He let go and watched regretfully as she cradled her arm to her chest protectively. He apologized and then carefully rose to his feet holding out a hand which she nervously took to help her up as well. He spoke as he led her several steps away from where they'd been.

"Listen," he began. "…this thing, it's bad. It's very bad thing, called a horcrux, and you shouldn't touch it. So you stay here, right, and I'm-I'm gonna kill it, ok?"

Hermione concentrated, glad to finally have some sort of explanation, regardless of whether or not she completely understood it all. She got the general idea. Ron was going to stop something bad. Ron had to do it because she couldn't.

"Stay here." He emphasized to her once again as he pointed his finger to the ground where she stood.

He knew the horcrux would end up doing something, put up some sort of fight and he wanted Hermione to be completely clear of it. After giving her the best smile he could manage at the moment, he nodded and returned back to where he'd left the cursed object on the ground.

He took a breath to steady himself and pulled the fang over his head, quickly slamming it down before any tricks could be played as the locket had done. As soon as it was pierced the cup began to rattle violently and an unearthly shriek of pain sounded just as a burst of power surged upward lifting Ron off his feet. He landed on the ground with a painful thud that his adrenaline kept his from focusing on. The young wizard leapt to his feet and cast his eyes upward where a wall of water now rushed up to the height of the high ceiling.

His heart began to slam into his ribcage as he saw a roaring face appear within the geyser. It seemed to look right at him a moment before it suddenly pushed forward, crashing towards him with what was sure to be tremendous force. His shoes squeaked against the floor a time or two as he scrambled backward until he finally managed to turn himself around and start running. The first thing he searched for and found was Hermione. She was standing rooted to the spot he'd left her, wide eyes staring at the rushing water, mouth agape.

"Hermione!" he shouted her name, doubting he could actually be heard over the thunder of the water. It didn't keep him from shouting her name again even as he ran towards her as fast as he could.

Without breaking stride or pausing, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and continued running though he didn't know where he planned on going as the exit was in the opposite direction. He just had to run.

He pulled her roughly along, unable to spare a thought to exactly how rough he may be handling her or to keep from tossing looks continuously over his shoulder.

Before long the two Gryffindors found themselves before a wall with no direction to take.

Ron's chest heaved up and down as his adrenaline was quickly turning into panic.

No.

No, this couldn't be it.

He turned to see the water still chasing towards them without mercy and knew there was nowhere for it to go but straight into them. He looked at Hermione who was shaking with fear as she stared up at it as well.

It would be just a moment now before it crashed into them. Without wasting that moment, Ron wrapped his arms around her thin body and held her as close to him as he could, feeling her arms respond in kind.

It was the first time he'd initiated contact like this between them and he so deeply regretted that it would be the last. Her breath tickled his neck as she said something he'd have given anything to be able to hear, but couldn't.

He only held her tighter and apologized that he couldn't keep his promise of getting her better. He wrenched his eyes shut and inhaled, bracing for the impact and taking comfort that his last breath would have her scent in it.

And suddenly it hit.

But it wasn't death; it was a sudden cascade of ice crashing over him. The waterfall knocked the breath he'd been holding right out of his chest. It drenched him from head to toe and he stumbled a few steps back, never losing hold of the girl in his arms. Opening his eyes, Ron pulled back just enough to look around.

Hermione was as tense as she had ever been while quivering in his hold, and Ron looked around. They were standing in a rather large puddle. He rubbed his hand up and down her shivering back as she kept her body pressed up against him.

"Hermione." He said, unable to keep the bit of chuckle out of his voice. HE just couldn't believe they were alive.

They were alive!

His chuckle turned into a full out laugh.

"Hermione, we-we're ok!" he laughed. "We're ok."

She finally lifted her head and glanced around skittishly. She looked up at him and saw the happiness in his face. He gave her a huge smile and nodded encouragingly.

She pulled away slightly and looked around once more, realization seeming to come to her. When she looked back to him this time, he saw the smallest of smiles start on her face.

"We're alright." He repeated. "It's just water."

Hermione nodded understanding what he was saying. She let out a few unsteady chuckles of her own and wrapped her arms around him yet again. So much adrenaline pumped through his veins, that Ron couldn't control himself.

As soon as Hermione pulled back, Ron found his hands on either side of Hermione's head and pressed his lips into hers. The moment they connected two things happened simultaneously.

One, Ron's heart stopped…it very literally stopped and everything stilled in that moment; the universe paused to take notice of what was happening.

The other, she stiffened. Ron felt her stiffen up and it was like the cold wave had hit him all over again.

His eyes shot open and he separated from her slowly, terrified of what he was about to read on her face.

"H-Hermione-" he cleared his throat as he recognized the look on her face. There was shock, but more than that, Ron saw fear. He saw it in her wide eyes and her shuddering breaths as. "Hermione, I-I'm sorry, I…I just…"

He looked down and let out a breath while closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"I shouldn't have." He settled on saying before clearing his throat. "Well, let's go, yeah? I should get you…get you to the Hospital Wing., where you'll be safe."

He took a step back, holding out his hand for her to take. The small crack in his heart began to widen the longer she stood there staring at his open hand. Her figure blurred in front of his eyes, tears producing as he saw her hesitance to reach for him.

How much had he ruined now?

He hated the thought, but more than that he hated that right now there were more important things going on than how she felt towards him.

"Hermione." He said her name, he really didn't want to drag her, but he knew he couldn't just let them stand around down here. "Hermione, please."

After a few more seconds, she bit down on her bottom lip and nervously stretched out her hand until it was in his. Ron took it for what it was, and decided he really needed to focus on the big picture right now. The big picture which currently caused a heavy shudder through the walls that clearly meant an attack on the wards around the school.

He gripped her hand and began moving quickly, mentally bracing himself for what was happening. She would be separated from him. People were going to die.

There was absolutely no more time to waste.

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

**A/N: Didn't go the way you wanted? Sorry, as much as I wanted to, no matter how comfortable Hermione is with Ron at this point, I can't rightly see her being up and ready for the kiss. Sorry everyone, but she's still healing.**


	30. Sons and Daughters

**A/N: Hey hey hey! Been forever, yes true. And yes true, there are places in this chap and throughout the story where it's clear there's more movie influence than book. Sorry if that bothers anyone but in this path that I've created, it works for me. I hope you guys are still there and not hating on me for taking so long. and I really really really hope you enjoy this.**

* * *

"_Take up your arm_

_Sons and daughters_

_We will arise from the bunkers"_

'_Sons & Daughters'_

-The Decemberists

X

* * *

X

It was loud.

It was so very loud and she didn't like it at all. She didn't like any of it.

Why did Ron leave her there?

Too many people. Too many noises.

The woman Ron left her with kept touching her. She would go to someone and then come back and put a hand on her shoulder or arm or back and ask if she was ok. Each time calling her 'Miss Granger.'

Hermione knew from Ron that that was part of her name: Granger.

It didn't make much sense at the time since no one around her ever called her that. But here the woman, Pomfrey she was told to call her, _only_ called her that.

Hermione didn't like it.

Everything was busy around her. Ron told her to stay and she wanted to do what he said. So she stayed in her little seat in the corner, not wanting to give him a reason to be cross with her. She could tell he'd been upset earlier when he put his mouth on hers. She didn't mean to upset him, but it had always felt wrong when they did it to her in the dark place and she got scared. She didn't want anything to ever be wrong about Ron.

A loud rumble made Hermione jump in place in her chair. Her breathing quickened and her heart sped up as well. Her skittish gaze immediately began flying all over the room.

Everyone was doing the same as her; looking around for…anything. All of them were holding sticks.

No.

Not sticks, wands. Ron taught her. They were wands and they weren't always bad; he taught her.

She recently had begun to not completely lose it at the sight of one. Before seeing Ron and Harry disappear with the dark woman she hadn't caused any real damage for a while.

Another rumble, shook the walls and something fell and shattered nearby.

She looked around for the woman Ron left her with and didn't see her. A brush of terror rose up when she didn't and Hermione again wished that she wasn't where she was…at all. Glancing around she got a look at how many people seemed to be hurting. There was a lot of pain around her. A small whimper escaped her throat.

Then amidst them all, the doors opened and her eyes fell onto a young boy, a very hurt boy, being brought closer and closer towards her general area by another boy. They stopped at a bed nearby and the younger was set upon it while the other pressed his hand to the boy's side and looked around the room before his eyes fell on to her. They widened for a moment before he spoke.

"Hermione." He called over towards her corner chair.

So, he knew her.

His voice sounded odd compared to what she was used to. It made it harder to understand all of what he said. She tried anyway.

"Hermione…" she understood that easy enough. "…bad…help…do…is?"

Hermione felt her heart speed up and sweat bead even worse as she tried to think. She tried. She really tried. But it was loud, and his voice was strange and she didn't know what was happening and she just wanted to go away and be back with Ron in the room.

Tears filled her eyes as the boy said her name again; louder and angry sounding.

"Hermione!" Seamus tried again to get an answer from her as the youngest Creevey lay whimpering beneath his blood covered hands. He cast his eyes around once more and seeing several people, some patients and some not. Madame Pomfrey had to be with one of them. He didn't want to deny anyone help, but Colin was dying.

The Irishman's eyes returned to Hermione. He suddenly remembered vague talk he'd heard among the chaos of crowds about her being less than herself with her miraculous return to the living.

It showed.

He wanted to sympathize but a well-timed cry of pain reminded him there wasn't really time at all. Swallowing hard, he promised the boy it would be alright and swiftly caught the girl's eyes once more. Gesturing with a wave, Seamus instructed her over.

"C'mere."

After a moment, and another wave, she cautiously got to her feet and slowly came over; every step oozing uncertainty and fear. When she was close enough, Seamus grabbed her wrist, feeling it slide a bit in his blood coated palm, and pressed her hand firmly over the still bleeding wound on the younger boy's side.

"Here. Keep pushing on it. I'll get Pomfrey," he stated and ran off without another world.

Hermione had choked on a yelp when the boy grabbed her. She tried to listen to what he said but couldn't get beyond the warm liquid she could feel slipping through her fingers.

It made her sick.

She could feel herself rolling as her fingers twitched in the blood. Memories flew through her and she scrunched her eyes shut and tried to breathe.

Blood.

Blood and pain and hunger and screams and men and women and sticks and words and colors….

She felt tears roll out, escaping from under her shut lids.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

But it didn't. It kept coming.

Disjointed images cut and pasted one over the other.

Hermione only came from her mind's trap when a horrendous booming filled the room and she felt herself lose her footing under the violent vibrations. She hit the floor with a grunt and abruptly turned her head and vomited. Her throat burned and her hands shook as she tried to breathe right.

Others had fallen too.

She watched them get to their feet while all she wanted to was curl up and hide.

A new memory came.

She was hiding under the bed. It was small and safe under there. She didn't want to leave. And then…Ron.

He came. He found her and he spoke quietly and he smiled.

She didn't want to hide now. Not if he was out there. What if he got hurt or scared and needed help the way she had. Hermione swallowed, going unnoticed as the Pomfrey woman and the boy who yelled at her ran to the bed she'd been standing at. It was only now that she saw the boys hand hanging off the edge of the mattress and the thin stream of red splashing steadily into the growing pool on the floor.

She was hypnotized by it until one more harsh booming sound came and this time the screams were louder and pieces of the wall and ceiling fell. Hermione, after uncovering her head, saw something nearby among dust and stone.

Ignoring all her fears, Hermione forced herself to her feet as quick as she could and grabbed the fallen wand. Still half expecting to be attacked as soon as she touched it, she braced herself for a moment, her breath catching. When nothing happened right away, she gulped and told herself she wouldn't upset him this time.

She could take the wand to Ron and then it would be ok. Just like before, in the dark place, Ron said to give him the wand and he would take care of everything.

With this resolve, Hermione took off as quick as her frightful steps could manage; determined to find Ron.

She didn't even notice the surprised shout of "Miss Granger!" that came from Pomfrey just as she disappeared through the infirmary doors.

X

* * *

X

Ron was running.

He was literally running for his life from the burning heat of the fire chasing him.

That idiot…that useless dunce, Goyle, had set fiendfyre on the place. Ron could feel the immense heat following closely, too closely, behind him. He pushed himself as fast as he possibly could as the flames licked at his back.

He felt his shoes slide half an inch as he turned a harsh corner. He saw Harry for a split second before his eyes found salvation propped against one of the many piles in the Room of Requirement. As he passed, Ron shot out his hand and caught a fistful of his friend's shirt. The two of them came to the waiting broom's and mounted them without wasting a moment.

Using every ounce of strength he possessed, Ron pulled the broom handle straight up and flew as quickly as possible. He made note of Harry nearby; he was still alright.

The fiendfyre rose with them coming near enough to catch the legendary diadem and disintegrate it as if it were nothing. His adrenaline spiked, making it impossible to even be annoyed that Harry had insisted on helping Malfoy and Crabbe. He may even feel a bit of remorse later for Goyle's painful demise. Much later.

Ron panted heavily, leaning against the wall where the door had already vanished. He assumed the Room could take care of itself. Right?

If no one was in it, the room could do whatever it wanted or needed and Ron could safely guess it needed to not be on fire.

He glanced around after realizing the two buggers they'd risked their necks for had already taken off without so much of a thanks.

He groaned audibly and looked to Harry who was wiping his sweat heavy hair away from his forehead and looking around himself as if trying to figure something out. Ron could hear him begin muttering his thoughts out loud.

"…locket, cup, diadem, diary…"

"The snake." Ron stated, letting his friend know he was following his train of thoughts. "We need to find that bloody snake."

Harry only nodded, before stating, "He'll have it near him. He'll want to keep it close."

"Great." Ron mumbled.

The boys shared a look in which Ron saw that Harry shared his feelings about going near the dark wizard, but at the same time he knew his friend was desperate to end it. That was something Ron couldn't agree with more. Although he had his own personal objective as well: Snape.

He had to find him.

X

* * *

X

She felt the scream leave her throat and stepped back right away. She peered back around the corner where she'd seen it.

A man, a beast, he had he had been on a girl. It looked like he was biting her, blood was smeared on the floor where she lay as well as over his own features. It wasn't the same as the wands hurting people; it was worse. At least it seemed worse to Hermione.

Now, however, when she looked back around again she didn't see him..._it?_...anymore. Just the girl. Hermione's throat burned and she thought for a second that she might throw up again. She felt her tired legs move on their own and somehow carry her over to the bloody girl.

Hermione flinched as someone ran past her, almost into her, but continued on until she was kneeling by the fallen body. The girl's long hair was stained as red as her neck and blouse from the disgusting wound. She was missing a piece of neck.

Hermione suddenly found herself staring at her chest. It almost looked like it was moving, it comforted her to think that it was. She watched still and the longer she did the more she thought it was definitely moving up a little and then down again.

She reached a shaking hand out and laid it on the slow moving chest. As soon as she touched it, the girl let out a loud gasp and Hermione looked at her face where her eyes were now open. Hermione could tell she hurt and tried to think of something to do to help. When she was hurting what did they do at the house? Her sweaty hand flexed tighter around the wand she had been carrying to give it to Ron.

She looked at the stick in her hand and wondered if she could do anything with it to help her.

"Huh…" the sound came from the girl in a churning mess of gurgles, drawing Hermione's attention back to her face.

Hermione saw her pain and fear filled eyes looking at the wand then back at her.

"Puh…P…" blood and saliva popped in droplets as she tried to speak.

Hermione instinctively nodded and licked her lips while nervously raising the wand over the girl. She closed her eyes and tried to picture what she'd seen done while at the cottage. There wasn't much to go on since the most severe healing had to be done in those first unconscious hours there, but she tried anyway. She opened her eyes and pointed the wand at the spurting wound.

Nothing happened.

She tried again making a jabbing motion with the wand. When still nothing came, Hermione pressed her empty hand over it. The nausea that came from the disgustingly warm blood took a back seat to her desperation.

The girl groaned in pain when Hermione squeezed pressure onto her fatally wounded neck. Their eyes met and Lavender Brown could see exactly how devastated her former roommate was; how she truly wished to help. It dawned on Lavender then, as she felt the world separating from her, that she wished she'd been nicer to the distressed girl with her. She genuinely regretted never taking the time to know and connect with her better.

The girl she'd roomed with for six years and yet knew little more than outside basics of her life. The girl she'd mocked and purposely left out on more than one occasion. The same girl who'd obviously gone through all manner of hell for people like her just the same, no matter how they'd treated or mistreated her in the past. The very girl now crying for her in her last moments.

With these thoughts in her head, Lavender weakly managed to life a hand enough to flop it over Hermione's, both of their hands now lying over the impossible to help wound. At the touch, Lavender tried to speak, she wanted to say she was sorry for everything she'd done over the years to hurt or embarrass her. She wanted to tell Hermione that it was ok that she couldn't save her, Lavender didn't hold it against her.

She wanted to say all of this and more, but when she tried all that came out was a stomach churning gurgle of blood collecting in the back of her throat. This started a shattering round of coughing and she was only vaguely aware of the splattering of the copper fluid that erupted from her and speckled onto the girl kneeling at her side.

She felt herself panic at the realization that she was having difficulty breathing; she _couldn't_ breathe!

She was drowning.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Everything she'd ever wanted for herself, all she ever dreamt about doing and having in life came down to this moment, drowning on her own blood with a picture of her parents in her mind.

Hermione stared at the girl after she stopped moving and her hand no longer held her like it had been. Her wet eyes went to the still chest and more tears slipped out as she put a hand on it yet again willing it to start moving.

It didn't.

The wand fell from her grip, hitting the floor with a sound lost among the sound of war around her. She then used her hands, slick with coats of blood, grabbing onto the limp ones before her. She felt them slide in her dripping fingers, but did succeed in moving them. She placed one on the still chest and held the other against her own.

She remembered how the nice woman who looked like Ron had done this with her and it helped her. She held it there, and waited a moment. As breaths came and went from her lungs, Hermione pressed her hands harder onto the girl's.

Still nothing.

She let go, the limbs slapping to the floor lifelessly, before she attempted more assertive measures. Her shuddering breaths turned to heaving pants as Hermione grabbed the girl's shoulders and shook her violently.

It wasn't right. It wasn't right that she wasn't moving at all.

Hermione needed to make her move again.

She shook her and shook her and tried and tried but nothing changed and nothing was going to. A sob escaped her mouth and Hermione pulled her hands away as if burned now. All she could think about was how wrong it felt; how she didn't help like she should have.

"Well, lookee here," she heard from behind her, close behind her. Her head turned in a quick sharp motion that sent a cracking through her neck.

It was him…The beast.

He sauntered forward as she raised up to her feet, stumbling slightly, and began backing away. He poked his tongue out to lick the taste of his latest kill off his bottom lip and grinned.

She hadn't been able to see before, but now that he was facing her and she could see him clearly. A feeling of familiarity prickled at the back of her mind.

"Remember me, love?"

X

* * *

X

* * *

X


	31. This Is War

**A/N: So here's this….only a few chapters left! And I mean, seriously it's almost over. After this…you get two more. Prepare yourselves to no longer have me giving you excuses for why I take so long to update. It's going to be a big hole in your life, I can tell. I'll stop now; you guys are waiting for me to pull you back from the cliff I left you hanging on. Well I won't let you fall! Here you go!**

**PS, I put the entire first half of the song here because I absolutely love this song and I find it so perfect for the chapter here. If you haven't heard it, go right now and you take a good listen to it.**

* * *

X

"_A warning to the people_

_The good and the evil_

_This is war_

_To the soldier, the civilian_

_The martyr, the victim_

_This is war _

_It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie_

_The moment to live and the moment to die_

_The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight_

_To the right, to the left_

_We will fight to the death_

_To the Edge of the Earth_

_It's a brave new world from the last to the first"_

'_This is War'_

-30 Seconds to Mars

X

* * *

X

Hermione took another step back as the beastly man took another forward.

"You probably don't remember do ya?" he asked with a sickly sweet smile on his wretched face as he continued onward. "Seeing as we never got our chance to get acquainted. A chance I was promised."

She let out a gasp when her back met with the hard stone wall. She swallowed heavily, knowing now that she had nowhere to go and he was now right in front of her.

"A chance, it looks like, I'll be getting now," he promised twirling a thick, dirty finger through her hair and leaned forward.

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath on her face. She barely held in a whimper as the familiar sensation forced upon her several memories all at once. Memories of other men, of breath on her face and hands and…

The flashes flew through her mind too fast for her to register the sight of any of them individually, but her body could pick out each and every one without hiccup. It felt every single memory's moment. She was caught in these recollections of pain and degradation when Fenrir leaned so that he was less than an inch from her skin and took a deep inhale.

"Mm…" he moaned, then pulled back a bit. "Smells delicious. Can't wait to have a bite."

He leaned now down towards her neck and let out a hungry growl as he prepared his jaw for a bite.

Hermione was panting heavily, her chest heaving up and down. Her eyes shot open when she heard a voice she knew scream out her name in alarm.

"Hermione!'

The voice brought her from the past into the moment. The catalyst sent forth an eruption from her that both Hermione and Greyback were unprepared for. She felt a fast burn start in her chest and, in less than a breath, fly through her arms and break from her hands as they instinctively rose as if knowing on their own what to do.

A huge burst of magic exploded from her. She didn't see Fenrir fly back an impossible distance she couldn't, for as soon the energy left her, Hermione's legs gave out and she hit the ground.

She felt drained of any ability or strength. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open as she lay on her side on the ground taking big panting breaths. Each exhale sending clouds of dry dirt and dust up into the air. She felt a twitch in her neck as she tried to look towards the source of the voice that once again called out her name.

Ginny came running over the moment she got rid of the Death Eater she'd been dueling. She'd panicked the second she'd seen Hermione cornered by the werewolf, but couldn't risk turning her back on the masked bastard she'd been up against. The red head fell to her knees beside Hermione, checking her over quickly for any injury.

"Are you alright? Are you ok?" she questioned quickly. "I saw…"

She trailed off looking over her shoulder to where she could see the body of Greyback still lying unmoving. She gave her attention back to her friend when she heard her shifting on the floor.

Hermione was sluggishly trying to maneuver her limbs to allow her to get up. Ginny slid her arms under her shoulders and helped lift her up. The two stumbled a bit as Hermione needed a moment to find her footing and keep herself upright, mostly.

"What are you doing wandering about out here?" Ginny asked, breathing heavy as well from the exertion of the running, dodging and dueling she'd been doing.

Hermione reached a heavy hand over to Ginny's jaw where a bleeding cut rested just in front of her ear.

"Ok?" she asked her in a rough voice.

"Oh sure." Ginny answered with a short chuckle. "It's just a scratch. What about you? Are you ok?"

"Tired." She answered honestly, feeling every bit of it.

"I bet." Ginny agreed. "The way you blasted that bastard across the room; incredible. That was an awful lot of magic. You can't use that much and not-"

Ginny's sentence was cut off with a grunt as she felt Hermione give her a sudden hard shove, sending her to the ground with a thud. She knew right away what must've happened, why Hermione would push her like that, and instantly rolled over and shot off a stunner at the dark wizard she saw. Ginny didn't spare him another glance after he was hit, instead right away cast her eyes in search of Hermione, knowing the girl had knocked her out of harm's way.

She found her a few feet away from where Ginny had been originally standing. Hermione was writhing where she lay, kicking out her feet and making deep, guttural sound of pain.

"Oh no." Ginny breathed and ran over. "Oh no, no. Hermione!"

Once again Ginny was kneeling at the Gryffindor's side. Her eyes went to Hermione's left shoulder where the girl's right hand was clamped down tightly; the heavy amount of blood visible despite that said something about how deep the wound must be.

Hermione had her jaw clenched shut, the muscles and veins in her neck jutting out from the tension as the tears slid down her face.

"Hermione, Hermione let me see." Ginny instructed, doing her best not to cry for the girl. She tried to remove the girl's hand from the wound. As soon as Ginny touched the back of the Hermione's hand the girl let out a bit down cry of pain and shook her head fiercely with eyes shut tight.

"I have to see. Hermione, please."

Ginny was pleading with the girl right before a jet of light hit the wall above Ginny's head and the younger girl leaned over Hermione's upper body to shield her from any dust debris. When she was sure nothing was coming, Ginny raised her head to look around at the source and saw Neville bravely and ferociously standing his ground against the male Carrow; making Ginny believe that it wasn't a direct attack on them this time, just a stray hex from the nearby fight. She moved her eyes around the area, seeing all the other duels and fights taking place, the people getting hurt and dying, and she knew they couldn't just wait around here anymore. She'd let her guard down a moment ago and look at what had happened because of it.

She needed to get a look at Hermione's injury; needed to know if she could be moved or if she needed to be healed first.

"Ron." She heard the girl say; her voice breaking with just the one word. She put her watery eyes on Ginny. "Ron."

"I know, I know you want Ron…" Ginny replied. "Let me see your shoulder, then I'll take you to Ron. Ok? But you have to move your hand."

Hermione took a few more shuddering breaths before she removed her stained, shaking hand.

"Oh." Ginny voiced in barely a whisper as she saw the wound. The gash ran vertically along the crux of her shoulder and though she couldn't say exactly with all the blood, but it seemed to be impossibly deep. She wondered briefly if it were meant to sever completely.

Hermione was still tense, banging a clenched fist on the ground at her side and those sharp agonized noises continued to come from the back of her throat as her body attempted to deal with the massive pain it was experiencing.

Ginny swallowed at the bile rising in her throat while searching her brain for a spell that would do for the wound until she could get the older girl to Madame Pomfrey.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

Where's Ron?

It hurts very bad. Make it stop. Please.

Please.

Make it stop hurting.

Ron can make it stop.

Ron. Help.

Hermione's though were so disjointed, she couldn't really pay any attention to Ginny's words anymore.

There was only pain. Pain and begging for it to stop.

Ron…Help.

Help…Ron. Help Ron.

This thought stood out and after a moment she held it clear enough to remember its importance. Help Ron. She was supposed to help Ron.

She let out a gasp when she felt the magic from Ginny's attempt to seal the wound on her shoulder.

"It's not perfect," Ginny commented of her own work. "But it'll have to do for now."

The gash was partially sealed, though only superficially. Ginny didn't have enough knowledge to do anything for the depth of it. So really, it didn't do too much to help. Hermione was still bleeding, near to losing her arm.

"We have to get her to Pomfrey." A new voice spoke that made Hermione flinch. She hadn't noticed that Neville had come over as soon as he had disposed of Carrow; or rather, watched the coward turn tail and run while Neville was busy dodging his killing curse. Hermione's eyes wandered from Ginny's familiar ones to see the new face. Ginny had to put a hand carefully on the girl's chest to keep her still since as soon as she'd seen Neville, Hermione tried to squirm away from the unknown young man.

Ginny winced when she couldn't help but notice the lifeless way the girl's left arm kept limp as the rest of her had tried to get away. They needed to get her help, needed to keep the weight of her arm from pulling at the wound and making it worse.

"Hermione, calm down." Ginny instructed. "Calm down, it's ok. It's ok. It's Neville, he's a friend, alright? He's not gonna hurt you. It's alright."

"Ron." She said his name again.

This time as she spoke, she moved her uninjured arm to pick up the wand she'd let go of when she landed. With her wet, quaking fingers, she grasped the wood and brought it to rest in a fist on her stomach.

She was getting tired; it came upon her suddenly as the adrenaline ebbed away leaving only the exertion and blood loss behind for her. She got Ginny's attention, holding up the wand for her to see and was able to force out the words, "Help Ron." In a mumble before her eyes began to droop.

X

* * *

X

Ron wiped his shirt sleeve across his sweaty brow as quietly as possible in his hiding spot. HE and Harry kept silent as they watched the exchange before them in the awful shack.

After what happened in third year, Ron made a resolute promise to himself to never come back to the foul place. Yet here he was, hiding with Harry and watching the one and only Voldemort speak to Snape in the Shrieking Shack. They were talking about wands, _the_ wand.

Ron had his muscles tighten up the second her saw the bat in the room; much like he imagined Harry reacted to seeing Voldemort. He was so lose; right there.

He could help Hermione. He _would_ help Hermione.

Ron would make sure the poor excuse of a man would undo what his friends had done to the girl. Then Ron would kill him himself.

It happened so quickly.

One second the two were talking about who masters the wand and Ron was lost in his head imagining how satisfying it would be to put his fist right into Snape's crooked nose; the very next Snape hit the floor with a loud bang. Ron blinked several times in quick succession trying to figure out what he'd missed, his eyes widening when he realized that where Snape was grasping his neck, a shocking red liquid was sliding through his pale fingers.

Ron looked to Harry, but his friend was frozen staring at the scene before him. Then the snake. The snake. It was striking with Snape with such force that the wall shook as his body was slammed against it repeatedly.

Ron couldn't keep his mouth from falling open, the thought pouring through his head that this couldn't be happening. Ron moved to run forward, Harry's arm shooting out just as fast as that damned snake and caught him; holding him back until Voldemort had left the shack. As soon as he was gone, Harry let go and Ron darted out into the open space, knowing, but not caring that Harry was right behind him.

He half slid, half slipped next to the bleeding man. Harry came up to him with a little more grace, seeming more purposeful though Ron knew there couldn't possibly be a more meaningful purpose than his. The dark haired boy, came to the professor and laid his hands over the bleeding wound on his neck.

Snape spoke something to Harry as he looked deep into his eyes with a look that Ron had never seen on his face before. He wasn't sure what was said from one to the other, but suddenly Harry was holding out a hand, asking Ron for a vial, knowing the red head still had Hermione's well packed bag with him.

Harry captured the memories and bottled them.

Snape's eyes then turned to Ron's wide ones, holding on to them purposefully and Ron had to wonder what the man would ever have to say to him.

When their eyes met, the dying man took a wheezing breath and tried to speak once more.

"I'm…sorry." He spoke, his voice barely audible, causing Ron to lean forward to hear it. "She…did..n't…deserve it."

"You're right." Ron said with absolutely certainty. "That's why you're gonna make it better."

"I…" he tried again in an exhale of breath. "I…"

Right before Ron's eyes, the man went still. His eyes became empty.

He was dead.

Ron felt his heart jump in his throat.

"No." he said first in a whisper and then louder and stronger, full of desperation. "No. No! No!"

He reached out and pressed his hand fiercely against the ripped flesh of his throat.

"No!" he shouted in his face. "No you can't do this. You can't! You bastard!"

Ron grabbed the scruff of his clothes and shook him as hard as he could. The body of the man limply moved back and forth as Ron continued to yell at him.

"You bloody bastard! You owe her! You bloody owe her!"

He shouted, feeling hot tears flush down his red face and he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Ron, Ron, stop it." Harry tried to calm him down. "Ron he's gone."

His friend put a hands on Ron's and tried to pry his fingers off of the dead man's robes.

Ron's head fell at Harry's words.

He was gone. He was dead.

Ron let out a harsh, heavy sob as his head hung low, hidden behind his still extended arms.

Snape was dead.

"Ron." Harry said quietly.

At this soft spoken version of his name, Ron finally let go of the bunched up cloth. He fell backwards, moving back away from the man, and running the back of one of his bloody hands under his running nose as he continued to cry.

"He's dead." Ron stated, his voice more than broken as he admitted it out loud.

"I know." Harry said to him as he came carefully over to comfort his friend.

"No, you don't." Ron disagreed, looking up at Harry with a loud sniffle as the burning tears continued to pour freely down his cheeks.

"He's dead." Ron repeated than took a shaking breath as he continued to speak to Harry, his emotions, all the emotions he'd been holding on to and burying for so long. "He's dead. He was our only chance. He was _Hermione's_ only chance! He was going to fix her! I was gonna make him fix her and now he can't. He's dead! He's dead and now there's no chance!"

Harry sat down beside him, leaning his back against the decrepit wall as Ron hunched forward, not even trying to silence his tears.

"There is a chance." Harry tried to promise. "We haven't failed yet. We can stop this and make sure all those bastards get what they deserve. We can make it right."

"Yeah, we can, but for who?" Ron asked angrily. "Everyone out there _except _her? Everyone gets a happy ending and Hermione is stuck learning everything again like a bloody child? Don't tell me I haven't failed because I have. I promised her!"

Ron took a few shuddering breaths, swiping angrily at the tears still coming down. He stood after a moment and took a large breath in and out, wiping his shirt sleeve under his nose once more before he spoke in a harsh voice.

"Come on." He stated firmly, looking at Harry for a split second before heading for the exit without looking back. "Let's finish this."

X

X

X

X

X

X


	32. Vox Populi

**A/N: So I lied. I said there's two chapters left but oops on my part, there's three counting this one. So after THIS you have two to go. Yay? A surprise extra chapter you weren't counting on? I dunno, Anyway, life is as interesting as ever and I've been floored to hell by the Les Miserables movie. I just have to rave about it for a minute. I've been in love with it for years now and have been excited to hell to see the movie since I heard it was going to be made, and while – understandably- everything wasn't kept exactly to the letter, it was so much more than I could have wished for. The most genuine bravo to Anne Hathaway first and foremost. Hugh Jackman and the rest of the cast were stellar, with the exception of Russell Crowe, he wasn't awful, but he should not have been Javert. It's too big a part, too important are his songs for Russell Crowe's voice. It lacked the confidence and power that is needed for the emotion of Javert's solos.**

**I'm done. Now on to the story. Sorry guys.**

**X**

* * *

**X**

"_This is a call to arms_

_Gather soldiers_

_Time to go to war_

_This is a battle song_

_Brothers and sisters_

_Time to go to war"_

'_Vox Populi'_

-30 Seconds to Mars

**X**

* * *

**X**

An hour.

They had one hour now. A reprieve. A chance to tend to wounded, collect the dead and rally their remaining forces.

For Ron, it was an hour to process what was happening, what had happened. Snape was dead, an empty corpse left behind in a decrepit old shack, and with him went Ron's hope for an answer for Hermione.

Burying his face in his dirty hands, Ron felt tears forming again. Now he could only pray something in the memories he'd given Harry might help because if not…if not, he didn't know what to do. Harry was in Dumbledore's office this very moment to watch them. Ron couldn't.

In case there was nothing there, he couldn't do it. He chose to collect himself after his adrenaline and rage began to dissipate after he'd taken his fury out on three unsuspecting Death Eaters whose names he didn't care to figure out before striking them down in his bloodlust. He was brought out of his head when the silvery figure began to approach his direction. It took him a moment to recognize its shape, then his only thought was wondering who in the world could possibly have a happy enough memory to overcome all of this enough to cast the charm?

The horse galloped through the air and hovered before him as he heard Ginny's voice come from it.

"_The family is together in the Great Hall."_ Something was off in her voice. Something was wrong. _"If you can't come, please at least let us know you're…you're alright. Please."_

It sounded almost like she was crying, or had been crying. Something was very wrong. Someone was hurt…or worse.

Ron immediately scrambled to his feet and thought about going into the office to get Harry, but saw another ethereal horse beat him to it. Knowing the patronus would stand by until Harry returned from the memories and able to hear it's message, Ron didn't waste another moment before taking off for the hall.

He got there in what had to be record time, running through the debris littered entryway. He noticed immediately that the hall had become a sort of extension of the Hospital Wing. He could see cots lined up in rows and, he swallowed, rows of covered figures further down.

Bodies.

Those were bodies.

With a terrible fear in his heart, Ron scanned the room for his family; first over by the bodies and then felt a large relief when the easy to spot group was found gathered by the cots of wounded and not the dead. But the relief was slight for someone still had to be hurt. Not bumps and bruises kind of hurt either.

He scanned the crowded, hugging forms of his relatives for who he could see. Mum, Dad, Bill Charlie, Percy?

That one was strange, but if ever there was a time to come back to what mattered, now was it.

He didn't see Fred, George or Ginny. But Ginny sent the patronus, so she couldn't be seriously hurt, right? Done analyzing, Ron just gave in to his relief and ran over to his family.

"Mum, Dad."

At his voice they all turned to him, his parents immediately engulfing him in a crushing hug. The type he'd come to expect from his mother, it was the strength of his father's embrace that spoke of how serious everything was around them.

They spoke his name in emotional breaths of relief and Ron knew exactly how they felt. However, he braced himself as he let go, waiting to see who and how bad. He cast his eyes down to the cot he'd been unable to see through the ginger crowd across the room.

"F…" he paused to swallow. "Fred?"

His older brother was laid out on the cot, but he wasn't…Fred was…

His brother was lying there perfectly still with the slightest of smiles permanently placed on his face. His twin kneeling at his side, tears pouring down his face as he openly sobbed for his other half.

Ron tried again to swallow at the thickness in his throat.

"Fred." He said again, his voice heavy with coming tears.

He cast his eyes back towards his parents, as if searching for a hint it wasn't true.

"He's…"

His mother only sobbed louder, turning into her husband's embrace. Arthur held her close and could only nod with red eyes.

"Only just."

Ron couldn't keep his sobs in. He couldn't believe Fred was gone.

How could Fred be gone?

Only just, his father had said. It just happened. Maybe if Ron had come faster he'd have been there in time to see him, to…say something.

His cries calmed and he pulled his hand away from his eyes and asked between heavy breaths.

"Ginny?"

Understanding the question, Charlie and Percy moved aside, giving their youngest brother a chance to view Ginny. She was sitting on the floor sniffling quietly beside one of the makeshift beds. He moved to comfort her and take comfort in knowing she was alright.

"Ginny." He said her name unevenly.

Her tear streaked face looked up at him and she started crying anew.

"Ron," she began.

"I know," he answered; interrupting whatever it was she wanted to say and then noticing only then that the cot Ginny sat beside was occupied, and one of Ginny's hands was holding tightly to a hand in the bed.

His eyes moved over and his breath caught. He barely heard Ginny's weeping apology.

"I'm sorry." She stated tearfully. "I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" he rounded the cot and fell at her other side. She was supposed to be safe. "What happened?!"

He almost shouted the question in his fear.

"I found her in the hall. Greyback had her cornered but, but before I could get to her, she'd already blasted him across the way. We were walking then and…" here she sniffed and took a breath. "…I should've been paying attention. I should have been more careful."

"What happened?" Ron asked again.

"She pushed me out of the way of a curse." Ginny finished her confession. "It hit her. Neville and I brought her here as quickly as we could. Pomfrey saw her but…I think it's bad. I mean, I know, I know it's bad, Ron…"

Ron looked over the sleeping girl, taking in what he could see. Covered in dust and blood, it was an all too familiar sight for him.

The left side of her shirt was torn and a terribly thick collection of bandaging wrapped heavily around her, starting at her upper arm snaking up around her shoulder and anchored to her torso by wrapping around her chest and she wore a sling to hold the weight of the limb. Even through all the layers of wrappings, he could see a bit of pink on her shoulder where he assumed the actual wound was. It wasn't much, but enough to let him know Ginny wasn't exaggerating about the seriousness of the wound.

He tried to ask her…everything. How did she seem? What did Pomfrey say? Why wasn't she with her right now? Would she be ok?

He wanted to ask all of it, but Ron knew if he tried, if he opened his mouth he would start sobbing again. He let his eyes fall to where his sister held her hand. Ginny noticed this and spoke, wiping a hand over her wet cheek.

"She understands," Ginny told him, getting a curious look from him. "I think she understands a bit…about Fred. After Pomfrey gave her a quick patch and something for the pain…" she paused and swallowed, "…they brought Fred. I was staring at him and she reached over and grabbed my hand. She grabbed my hand and just, just held it until she fell asleep."

Ginny couldn't keep the small grin from her face as she explained. It was strange to see it there as still more tears fell down her face. He moved to where she sat and lowered himself beside her.

"Go on." He told her softly, understanding she probably hadn't wanted to leave Hermione alone to go to the comfort of her grieving family.

"I'm here now," he told her. "I'm here with her. You go ahead."

She smiled a thanks at him and gave her brother a quick but meaningful hug before rising to her feet and hurrying to her parent's embrace.

Ron immediately picked up the hand Ginny had been holding. He felt the coarseness of drying blood on her smaller hand and he took an unsteady breath, holding her hand with both of his.

"Hermione…" her name broke in his mouth. He pulled her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of the dirty hand. "I'm sorry."

He cried the words into her hand, holding it tighter as he began to sob his apologies over and over into her hand. Repeating that he was sorry until it was unintelligible through his heaving sobs. His nose was running and his tears were falling, everything was just so heavy.

Fred was dead.

Hermione was seriously hurt.

Friends were dying left and right and always those thoughts and feelings of lingering darkness looming. He hadn't allowed himself to think on it; not for himself anyway. Ron had stomped down any and all thoughts and memories pertaining to any of _those_ events that happened directly to him in favor of caring for Hermione. All the time since leaving that Hell on Earth, Ron had given all efforts and energy to Hermione's adjustment and recovery.

Now he felt it pulling at his mind as he sat there overwhelmed by his failures.

He was fighting a losing battle with those very thoughts when he felt the hand he was clinging to start to squeeze his in return. It was enough to pull him out of his head and back to the moment. He cast his gaze to her face, still keeping a strong hold on her hand, and found her watery brown eyes staring wordlessly at him.

Ron could only hold her gaze for a few seconds, unable to speak, simply staring. After a short time of this, Ron snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat while scooting closer to her lain form.

He continued to hold her hand with one of his and reached out to stroke her cheek.

"Hi." He spoke quietly.

Her mouth moved in a mirror action of his greeting though no actual sound came out. Ron took some comfort in the small smile that she put on for him.

"Do you need anything?"

She moved her head as if to shake it but stopped and winced, clenching her eyes shut and breathing erratically. Immediately, Ron was on it.

"I'm sorry." He apologized. "I'll get…Madam Pomfrey!" He called out as he saw the mediwitch bustling about not far off.

She came over quickly, showing Ron her worn face. He knew she had to be exhausted, possibly more so than anyone else out there. Everyone needing, demanding her attention.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"She's in pain." He stated, his hand squeezing Hermione's as he spoke.

"I can give her a mild pain potion; it's too soon after the first for anything stronger."

"But can't you, you know, heal her?" Ron asked, knowing it hadn't been done yet. "Completely?"

Pomfrey gave Hermione a kind smile before turning to Ron.

"The damage is…severe. The spellwork it requires is complex and there isn't time yet." She explained.

"But if you leave it like this, won't it-"

"Mister Weasley," she interrupted, "I'm sorry. As soon as it's possible, she'll get everything she needs. I promise. Now if you'll excuse me."

Ron watched her leave disheartened. He couldn't keep the worst case scenarios from running through his mind. It made sense, he figured, with the way the night was going.

"You know," he told Hermione, "I wish you listened better."

He saw her eyebrows lift a bit questioning him.

"I told you to stay put, didn't I? I told you…" he paused, attempting to swallow his anger. "I told you to stay safe. But you-"

"Ron," her voice quietly interrupted. It was heavy and hoarse and obviously effected by the levels of pain she'd experienced. She swallowed heavily. "Ron."

"Yeah," he relied, unsure if she was trying to say something to him or just asking for assurance as she often did when she was nervous.

She loosed her hand from his and he let her, noticing with interest that the sweat from his palm had allowed the dried blood to transfer from her skin to his. He watched her uninjured arm reach along her leg. She slowly pulled back and put the wand into Ron's hand.

Ron looked at what he'd been given with confusion. A wand? But he had a wand. Well, he was using a wand, Hermione's to be specific for he had no idea what had become of his in the manor after his capture.

"I don't understand." He confessed reluctantly.

"Take c-care of it." She said, a smile once again coming to her face.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"M-Make it better." She spoke with obvious…hope?

"Oh." He let out as he finally understood. He glanced down at the wand in his open palm, unable to see that hopeful look in her eyes directed at him.

Still more tears burned his eyes though he had been certain he had no more for the night.

"I…"

"Make it better." She repeated, his addled mind registered how breathy her voice sounded.

"Hermione," he began.

However he couldn't finish. He was interrupted, everyone was interrupted by that cold cruel voice again. It spoke to everyone, booming an announcement with unmistakable joy.

Harry Potter was dead.

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X

* * *

X


	33. Lifeline

**A/N: I'm sorry sorry sorry I left you guys hanging for so long. If you must know I lost my job about a month ago. You'd think not working would give me more time to write but, alas it isn't so. Anyway, I'm working part-time at the moment while working to find a hospital gig for myself.**

**Anyway, this one…this chapter …damn. I like this chapter. Especially a scene that I know a lot of reviewers have been waiting (and asking) for; the 'reunion' of Hermione and Bellatrix for the first time since the great dungeon escape!**

**I love writing Bellatrix! And it's kind of scary how she (ala Helena BC) gets away from me while writing her.**

**I hope you guys like.**

**This is the second to last of it. The next chapter is the curtain call, everyone.**

X

* * *

"_If you hear a distant sound_

_And some footsteps by your side_

_When the world comes crashing down_

_I will find you if you hide."_

'_Lifeline'_

-Angels & Airwaves

* * *

X

* * *

The curse barreled forward, colliding with the just-in-time shield with enough force to send the girl stumbling back. Ginny felt the sting rattle through her as the back of her leg hit the hard corner of the cot.

She thanked her quidditch reflexes for the ability to regain her balance before she fell completely over the bed and on the body lying atop it. The knock into her resting place was enough to jostle the girl on it and Hermione found her eyes shooting open at the sudden rocking motion and subsequent pain it caused.

As soon as consciousness came to her, she heard what was becoming familiar at this point; the sounds of war…of fighting.

Why wasn't it over yet?

Hermione swallowed, her throat burning, and attempted to turn over to make sure Ron was ok. As soon as she had maneuvered the slightest bit, her body was aflame in pain radiating from her injury and cried out.

Her mind reeled.

Her eyes dizzily roaming around the ceiling as she laid back again, hoping it would help.

Then …that voice.

"Lookee here."

And Hermione froze.

Her chest started to hurt. The bumping inside it getting harder and harder.

That voice…_her_ voice.

No.

She turned to see.

No. No!

It _was_ her.

It was her.

She was here.

She was looking right at her.

Those eyes….

Seeing that Bellatrix was now happily, and hungrily, looking at Hermione, Ginny tightened her grip on her wand. She refused to fail Hermione again. She promised Ron before he took off to inspect Voldemort's cruel claim about Harry.

The redhead couldn't begin to describe the elation she'd felt when Parvati came running through the large doors, shouting to all that it wasn't true. Harry was alive, she'd seen it herself how his limp form sprung to life and began fighting anew.

The fighting had seemed fiercer since that moment when a slew of Death Eaters stormed the Hall, picking off the wounded and taking down the surprised . Before she knew what was happening, Ginny was trying to fight off the crazed woman with all her might.

"I found you." Bellatrix taunted with a playful voice and a sickening smile.

She looked absolutely giddy with delight, reminding Ginny of a child on Christmas who's just seen his present. The woman, tilted her head slightly, her eyes still on Hermione.

"Did you miss me?"

Ginny stepped between them to divert the mad woman's attention and shot a blasting spell at her. Bellatrix blocked with lightning fast reaction and looked towards the seething Weasley.

The dark woman clicked her tongue in a disapproving _'tut'_ before telling Ginny…

"It's rude to interrupt," she stated with clipped words and sharp eyes.

When Ginny moved her wand for another attempt, the Death Eater took a quicker shot sending the girl off her feet and several beds away to land on the ground with a hard thump. Bellatrix looked after her a moment and shook her head.

"No manners."

She then cast her gaze to the quivering form on the bed. Her rotting teeth showed in a smile as she sauntered towards her.

"Not like you though," she spoke as she came to the bed and sat, watching the terrified eyes watch her. "You know better than to be rude to your superiors."

She grabbed the girl and pulled her forcefully into a sitting position. Bellatrix almost shivered in pleasure at the familiar cry of pain the sudden action birthed.

"There we are," Bellatrix said as if soothing the girl; one arm tightly around her to keep her upright while the other held the wand she'd gotten to replace her own.

She ran the tip of it over the pale face, using it to slide hair out of the way of her crying face.

"Shh…" as the tears came freely down her shivering face, "Shh. None of that, none of that. I've got you."

She said these words as if she were intending them to comfort, even leaning her forehead until it touched the side of Hermione's slick, dirty head. While there, Bellatrix spoke directly in her ear; repeating her words.

"I've got you, now." The hot breath becoming a slow laugh that culminated in the terribly taunting statement. "I'll always get you."

The laugh again, but this time louder…madder. It spurred Hermione to wiggle in her grip as much as her injury and the Death Eater's hold would allow.

"Ah-Ah," Bellatrix admonished, tightening her hold and laughing again. "Didn't you miss me?"

She got close to her ear again, speaking in a harsh whisper.

"You've been a bad little mudblood, haven't you?" she questioned, rhetorically. "But I've got you. I've got you and we're going to start playing our game again _very_ soon. Isn't that exciting?"

She grabbed the grungy shirt the teenager wore and gave a hard yank with her nails, exposing a portion of her quivering abdomen through the now torn shirt. The Death Eater smiled at the still scarring initials.

"This means you're mine!" she told her in a harsh whisper that was somehow both quiet and loud at once; all playfulness gone from her tone.

The same hand then grabbed Hermione's chin, the sharp nails scratching her pale skin, and turned her head away sharply bringing yet another delicious cry from the girl.

"And _this_…" she moved her hair aside to see the scar at her temple. "…means you're too stupid to ever belong anywhere else."

She pressed a hard kiss on the scarred skin and removed all hold from the girl with a loud laugh as she fell back to the mattress.

Hermione couldn't help herself. It was either the immense pain or pure horror, perhaps a combination of both, but she found herself heaving over the edge of her cot as tears fell.

Ginny came around and saw, through blurred vision, Bellatrix at her friend's bed. Ignoring the several battles around her, she unsteadily sped towards them.

"We can play later, for now there's business to be done." Bellatrix stated, standing up and pulling off her bracelet.

Pointing her wand at the band she deftly cast "Portus," before turning her attention back to Hermione.

"Now be a good puppy and go home to wait until I'm finished here."

She laughingly ruffled Hermione's hair, hearing her already uneven breath hitch at the less than gentle touch. The Death Eater grabbed the girl's shaking hand at the wrist and lifted her arm, moving to slide the bracelet turned portkey over it.

"Expelliarmus!"

The blast hit the bracelet dead on sending it up in the air where it shuddered and vanished off to its set destination.

While the surprised witch looked at her now empty hand, Ginny shot another hex her way. Bellatrix let out a shout of anger as a deep cut suddenly sliced across her face. Her hand automatically pressed her palm to her cheek in shock and Ginny was already grabbing Hermione's good arm and pulling her away.

Hermione was so grateful for the rescue she didn't register the sting the action sent through her. Ginny pushed Hermione to stand behind her and stood with all the hate in her heart ready to end LeStrange once and for all.

She only hoped her parents understood as she spoke the words she'd never thought she would.

"Avada Kedevra!"

Ginny gasped at the dark, almost sickening feeling that rolled through her as the curse left her wand. Without a spoken word, Bellatrix swished her wand to the side and deflected the deadly green jet. The look she gave the redhead was absolutely murderous.

"That was very, _very_ rude." She stated darkly. Her face made even more terrifying by the smear of crimson across her ghostly pale cheek.

"Give it back." She commanded in an eerily calm voice, immediately following it with a shout. "Give me back what's mine!"

Ginny said nothing, only tried to shoot another spell which was, again, unsuccessful.

"You think you can beat me?" she asked before shooting her own hex that hit Ginny's quickly put up shield. "Eh, bloodtraitor?"

She shot another spell against the shield causing Ginny, and therefore Hermione behind her, to slide backwards against the stone floor.

"Think you can kill me?!"

Another spell, another few feet lost under the force of it.

"Take my things?!" she shrieked sending the most powerful one yet; the shimmering shield shattered and the girls fell backward onto to the hard floor.

Bellatrix stood above them angrily, her eyes glaring down Ginny. She immediately placed her booted foot over the hand that held her wand, preventing her from any further attempt at defense. Her tongue darted out a moment, making an impossibly fast swipe over her lips before speaking.

"_No one_ steals from me."

She didn't notice Hermione's movement. She didn't see the girl pull out the wand from her sling that she'd been holding on to since picking it up from the chaotic infirmary. When the dark witch finally noticed, the end of it was facing her and the older woman let ou.t a sigh at the sight of it.

"Again?" she asked. "You've been away too long; forgotten what you've been taught, haven't you Muddy?"

Hermione flinched at the 'pet name' she hadn't heard since Ron took her away.

She tried to make it work before…tried to help the bleeding girl with it and it didn't work.

Words.

That's what she was missing.

Words made it work.

She needed the words.

"Do you really want to try this again?" Bellatrix asked, "Do you want to make me angry, Mudblood?"

Hermione swallowed heavily, her hand tightening around the wand.

Angry?

No.

No, she didn't want her to be angry.

When she was angry…Hermione shuddered.

Her free hand quivered as she brought it up, pressing the heel against her scarred temple and scrunching her eyes shut as the dark lady laughed at her.

"Hermione," Ginny pleaded, seeing the distress her friend was under in the face of her tormentor. "Hermione, don't listen. Ignore her, 'Mione. Get out of –"

The rest of her words were swallowed up by the shout of surprise and pain and the heavy weight trapping her fisted, wand holding hand increased without warning. She felt a sharp cracking in her fingers and a deep pain that made her suspect at least a couple of them were now broken.

The sound coming from Ginny was new to Hermione.

She never heard it from her.

The dark woman was making it happen, making her hurt.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at the woman.

Words came to her mind then, only a two words speaking darkly in her head.

_Hurt her._

Her hand tightened on the wood.

Her mouth got tight.

Pointing the wand at the woman, she thought the words again.

Thought them like she was saying it to the wand; telling it what she wanted it to do.

_Hurt her._

Suddenly a blast shot from the stick in her hand shooting straight toward the witch.

Not expecting anything to come of what she considered the mudblood's non-threat, Bellatrix was caught off guard. The blast hit her in the shoulder and sending her stumbling backwards.

With the weight off her hand, Ginny let out a relieved breath and pulled the limb towards her chest. Turning towards the older teenager, she saw Hermione carefully pulling herself up; a feat that didn't appear easy at all with one arm wrapped and strapped at her side. However, Hermione seemed to find determination enough to get to her feet before Bellatrix had gained her footing yet again.

"Why you-"

_Hurt her._

The wand did as it was told and sent another jet in the Death Eater's direction.

This time Bellatrix wasn't completely unprepared and was able to deflect it.

She spoke again to the girl standing before her, speaking a promise of regret to the girl.

Hermione didn't pay attention to it; her mind was becoming lost in a torrent of memory.

The woman slapping her face.

_Hurt her._

Kicking her stomach.

_Hurt her._

Using her wand on her.

_Hurt her!_

Cutting her.

_Cut HER!_

With the memories running through her, Hermione felt something she couldn't remember ever experiencing.

She couldn't name it herself, but to anyone else it would easily be recognized as a thirst for revenge.

She didn't have the words for the wand that the others did, but it was working. She told the wand what she wanted to do and it did it.

Spells came from the wand, one after the other after the other.

They were coming fast enough that Bellatrix, so far, had only been able to block and deflect. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to strike back at her attacker.

Bellatrix stopped attempting to speak to the girl and focused only on looking for an opening. It wasn't as though the one armed mudblood's spells were strong enough to do any real damage, but the speed in which they came. She hissed as a shallow cut appeared on her thigh.

"Ginny!" a voice called from across the room getting the young girl's attention from the shocking display in front of her to the woman who'd just reentered the grand room.

"Mum!" Ginny shouted, relieved to see her mother was still alive and well.

Hermione recognized the word the girl used and knew who it belonged to. She turned in the direction Ginny called to look for the woman. The woman always made Hermione feel better; she wanted to see that she was ok, too.

Her searching brown eyes found the woman and were able to take in her appearance for a moment before a blasting curse was shot at the very ground she stood on, sending her flying backwards with a swallowed scream to hit and then roll backward over an unoccupied cot. The breath left her chest as she found herself lying face down on the ground.

She was whimpering without realizing it.

She hurt.

Everything hurt so much now.

She didn't think she could do anymore now.

"Hermione!"

Ginny came over to the girl, her good hand going to the girl's back and rubbing it a few times.

She was crying.

Was she ok?

She had to be ok.

Ginny gave her a few, hopefully soothing, words before pulling turning at the sound of footsteps and raising the wand in her unbroken hand. It wasn't her dominant hand, so her casting wouldn't be as strong, but hopefully it would be enough.

Bellatrix was only a few feet away, the look on her face saying more than any words ever could that the games were over.

"Say goodbye." Bellatrix instructed, raising her arm over her head to bring down a fatal shot.

"Not my daughters, you bitch!"

And then Molly Weasley was there.

It wasn't long after that, moments really, that it was over. Fueled by her protective nature over her children -and yes Hermione was her child in all ways that mattered- and her need to avenge her young son's sudden death, Molly was fierce.

There was nothing the Death Eater could have done to save herself.

In the end the fatal blow did not come from Bellatrix, instead was shot at her with an accurate eyes and a sure hand.

Ginny stared at the fallen body with wide eyes. The woman whose very name was enough to send shivers down the spines of even the strongest of warriors was now dead. Dead at her mother's hand.

Her attention only broke when she found herself wrapped in the warm, familiar arms of her kneeling mom. The older woman was speaking relieved words and tears slipped from her eyes as she held her daughter tightly, pulling back enough to press a kiss to her cheek and forehead.

"Oh Ginny!" she spoke, sitting back to take a look at her. "Ginny, are you alright?"

The matriarch took in the dirt and drying blood on her daughter's face, and then cast a worried look down to the swelling, disjointed fingers of her right hand. The two middle and ring finger were broken without doubt, but other than that her youngest child and only daughter appeared to be alright.

"Mum." Ginny spoke softly, turning her eyes aside in the direction of the girl on the ground that hadn't moved other than to breathe shuddering half sobs and clench and unclench her free hand.

The girl slid on the ground to lean her back against the wall and allow her mother to look at the girl with her more experienced eye.

Molly moved closer and knelt beside the lying girl she'd spent much of her recent time taking care of. Her weathered hands, gently laid on the back of her head running it carefully over her hair as she leaned down to speak softly to the girl.

"Hermione," she coaxed softly, "look at me, dear. Look at me."

Without moving her head, Hermione's eyes set her eyes askance to see the woman.

"There we are," she gave her a smile through her wet cheeks. "Are you hurt?"

Hermione let out a whimper and nodded against the stone.

"It's alright. It's alright," she told her. "I need to turn you over, alright? Can you help me?"

Another nod and Molly slid her hands, palms up, carefully under her and slowly eased her onto her back. The woman's heart broke at the several pained sounds the girl made throughout the process.

"It's ok." She promised while running her hand over the sweat and dirt stained forehead to soothe the girl as much as she was able. "You're going to be just fine."

Molly cast her eyes to the already bandaged wound of the girl's shoulder; knowing it was already a serious injury before the second wave of the attack started. Her breath caught when she saw what was once a slightly stained patch of gauze was now completely saturated with scarlet wetness.

Molly shook her head, knowing the girl needed the undivided attention of a healer right away. She could only pray that this ended soon for the girl couldn't last much longer without it. She reached out to delicately slide her hand around the one sticking out of the end of the sling.

"Can you squeeze my hand, darling?" Molly requested, needing to know if the damage was as bad as she feared it could be. The girl's large eyes looked her way and settled over her shoulder. "Hermione?"

The girl licked her lips and spoke in a wavering voice.

"Ron."

Molly reinforced her smile for the girl and gave her a nod.

"You'll see Ron soon." She promised still nodding. "Squeeze my hand, Hermione; like this."

"Ron." Hermione repeated, still not doing as she was asked.

Molly was about to respond with another attempt to settle the girl's thoughts and get her to focus enough to do as she requested of her.

"Hermione-"

"Mum." Ginny interrupted. When her mother raised her eyes to her she lifted her head gesturing behind Molly.

When she finally turned to look for herself she realized that Hermione hadn't been asking for Ron, she was pointing him out. Her youngest son stood in the doorway, his face seeming shell shocked as he simply remained standing there for a moment.

Ginny got to her feet and ran over to him, throwing a one armed hug around him. When he didn't respond, Ginny looked at him concerned.

"Ron." She spoke his name, giving him a small shake. "Ron what is it?"

"It's over." Ron said in an absent tone.

"What?" Ginny asked, begging for clarification.

He turned to her, his eyes finally focusing in on her and everything that was around him.

"Harry's done it." Ron said quietly, then letting out a huff of what could almost be called a laugh, he repeated louder. Loud enough for half of the room to hear him. "Harry beat him. It's over."

Several people began hollering and clapping in celebration while Ginny only stared at Ron with wide eyes, almost afraid to believe it.

"It's really over?" her voice came out in a near whisper.

"Yes." A new voice came behind her and Ginny felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Harry!" she breathed out, tears springing to her eyes as she threw her arms around him.

He lifted his arms and let out a sigh, releasing all the worries of the last seven years out in the one breath and in the next inhale took in everything about Ginny; his future.

"It's really over." He spoke softly as they held each other tight.

Ron watched their display with mixed feelings. It would always be awkward to witness, but beyond the discomfort, Ron felt jealousy…longing.

He searched the crowds, eyes scanning over and through all the hugging and jumping bodies as he searched for her. The one that he wished to embrace as his sister and best friend were allowed to do now.

He always imagined sharing this moment with her; throwing his arms around her and spinning her around. Professing his love for her and sealing it with a brave kiss that would change everything. The two of them would celebrate the moment by opening the door to a whole world of possibilities for them.

Instead, he was standing alone, feeling faceless pats on the back he didn't pay attention to as he searched for Hermione.

He worked his way through the crowd until he caught sight of her, or rather he saw his mother and from there his eyes automatically travelled to the girl at her side.

He whispered her name to himself and made his way over, ignoring everyone and everything around him.

**X**

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**

* * *

**X**

* * *

**A/N: Only one left!**


	34. Almost Everything

**A/N: My faithful readers, this is the moment we've been quickly approaching since the beginning. I welcome you, fellow adventurers, to the end of our journey. When I first came up with this idea, I had no idea that anyone would embrace it as much as you guys have. This idea came to me while I was bumming in the student lounge in between classes a little less than 3 years ago and the very first scenes that actually came to mind were when Ron sees Hermione for the first time in the dungeon, followed by Snape's death scene, and then the final scene of this final chapter.**

**These scenes were the seeds that grew the story around them and I can't thank each and every one of you guys for helping this idea become the something I'm very proud of.**

**Thank you thank you.**

**I hope you've enjoyed taking this ride with me.**

**This is the longest bit yet, but I think it's deserved.**

* * *

X

"_See it feels bad now, but it's gonna get better_

_See it feels bad now, but it's gonna get better_

_See it feels bad now, but it's gonna get better_

_Someday"_

'_Almost Everything'_

-Wakey!Wakey!

X

* * *

X

Ron woke with a sharp gasp and all his muscles braced for an attack. His fists white as they clenched in the blankets at his chest. His eyes were wild as they ran around the dark room for any sign of the evil demons that invaded his dreams; his nightmares.

He was in the dungeon again. He could feel the blood seeping down his chest and the awful burns on his hands tightening the skin and setting his nerves on fire. In the shadows he could hear the rough scuffing sound of Hermione's bare feet rubbing on the floor as she tried to get away.

She never did.

In his nightmares, there were always other footsteps in the dark and he couldn't get beyond the pain to get to Hermione before the footsteps did. He always woke when Hermione started screaming. It had been the same every night since the battle. Tonight was no different than the past five.

He ran a hand down his face and pulled himself to sit up. As every night, it took him a few moments to recognize where he was. The thin cot he was granted permission to sleep on at the foot of Hermione's bed. It was the first thing he demanded as soon as he was checked out himself.

The young wizard rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head until he felt the crack in his back he desperately needed. After the kink was released, he walked around her twin bed until he was standing beside her sleeping form. The light from the door, which he made sure multiple times remained cracked, cast a thin line of light up her curled form and the left side of her face. The glow rested over her closed eye but he knew it wouldn't wake her from the potion assisted sleep she was in.

His lips pulled back a bit at the corner in a half grin as he rested a careful touch on her padded shoulder and gently maneuvered her to lie on her back. The mediwitches and healers continued to preach that she needed to keep any sort of pressure off of it. She was supposed to sleep on her back, but drove them crazy as she somehow always managed to revert to the subconscious protection of the almost fetal position. He could only assume it happened before the potions were able to take a complete effect during the night after her first small dose began to wear off and she was given her second.

All her potions were given half doses at a time to monitor her reactions to them after being exposed to so much dark magic for such an extended time.

It had been almost a week since the great battle of battles ended and just as long since Hermione had been brought to St. Mungo's for help. The immediate medical need was, of course, the gaping wound on her shoulder. It was hours of spell work, strenuous by the exhausted look of the healers when they came out to speak to him and his family.

They said the reconnection went as well as could be expected, but the recovery period was delicate. Any of the repairs to the muscles or nerves could be undone easily. The head healer of her case checked the progression of the settling in her shoulder multiple times a day.

What scared Ron the most was the fact that he repeatedly held her hand, to offer his comfort and support, and had yet to feel any reciprocation from her. The hand he held never moved to hold his back. Not for lack of trying on Hermione's part. He could see confusion on her groggy face when he held her limp hand.

He brought his concern to the healer's attention on the second day that came without movement. He was only told that they would focus on one thing at a time. In the shadowed room, Ron brushed hair out of her face and ran his fingertips down her cheek. Letting out a breath, he wondered when they would take a look at the damage to her mind.

It frightened him, the idea of them trying. This was the last one. If this didn't work, if they couldn't fix her then…then there was no fix. She would be this way forever.

Ron stood over her, grabbing her hand again and squeezing tight enough for both of them. Still holding it, he leaned over her pillow and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered few moments before he pulled back in surprise. Ron breath held in his throat in prayer. Nervous blue eyes went down to their touching hands and he was rewarded with a heart-lifting confirmation.

A small twitch fluttered against his hand; just a couple of her fingers, the index and middle to be exact.

He knew it wasn't much, but it was so much more than he was expecting. It was a sign, he knew it.

It meant things would get better. They had to.

By the ninth day in the hospital her movements were more purposeful, if weak, and limited only to her thumb, index and middle finger. After a few visits from the head healer, the older man informed Ron that the immobility in her last two fingers was permanent but he was confident the others would get back to full function with time and exercises. Although it was difficult to hear and accept, Ron still found happiness in the feel of her hand curling around his as best she could.

Day twelve came and he was doing just that, sitting there at her side as he held her hand and read from Hogwarts: A History. He was stroking his thumb over her skin and feeling the three fingers grasping his hand with a grip a bit stronger than the day before. He was well aware that he could sit on her other side and hold her 'good' hand, but he preferred it this way.

Ron liked to feel the strength returning to her bit by bit. He was also pretty sure that it helped her to know he wasn't upset by the handicap - for lack of a better word.

He was in the middle of a paragraph about the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall when Hermione spoke up.

"Ron."

He lifted his eyes from the book and turned them to hers. Her hair gathered on the pillow around her face as she looked up at him.

"Yeah?" He asked while giving her a smile. She was looking up at him with a gleam in her eyes.

"Can we go?" She asked, that hopeful spark in her eyes reflected in her voice.

She wanted to leave this place. This place with the people coming to her all the time, touching her and moving her and telling Ron things she didn't understand. She wanted to go.

The only part she didn't hate was when Ron was with her or when she saw the others who mattered. Harry, Ginny, Fleur and Molly, they all came to see her and it always made her smile when they came.

She wanted to get out.

Hermione saw his smile go away and then come back. But it was different. It meant he was going to tell her something she wouldn't like.

"Not yet."

He watched her face fall and her throat bobbed as she swallowed then nodded. Ron knew she didn't like it, but that she wouldn't argue or complain for fear of upsetting him. Ron only held her hand tighter and gave her a more genuine smile of assurance.

"Soon." He promised her. "We'll get out of here soon, I promise."

This was when the healer came in to tell them he wanted to begin diagnostic spells on her mental status. Ron didn't know it at that moment, but this was the beginning of the worst part of her stay at St. Mungo's.

For the next three days Ron thought he was going to kill someone, most likely the healer.

Three days of diagnostics, failed attempts, second opinions, more attempts, and Hermione's frightful voice calling his name. He had to stand outside the room while this happened, his fists clenching clumps of fiery hair at the roots and nearly pulling it out.

He never saw any of the attempts with his own eyes, but he saw the after effects. The very second he was allowed, Ron would burst into the room and go to her. Hermione, always with wet cheeks and red eyes, would pull him as close as she could with her good hand and hide in his chest while he held her.

She'd cry herself to sleep there and then Ron would examine her for any physical signs of what they'd done. The only time he'd seen anything was the day that the scar on her temple looked red and inflamed. After he'd looked her over, he would seek out the healer and demand answers and explanations. His anger would only grow when he wasn't able to get either to one to his satisfaction.

All the man could tell him was that it was some intricate old magic. It seemed that no matter what theory they came up with or spells and potions they tried out to help her, they only succeeded in upsetting her or causing her pain. There was even a day that he ran in to find her holding her head, crying with her own vomit on the front of her hospital gown that the healer told a mediwitch to come in to swipe it away with their wand.

On the fourth day of this trend, Ron couldn't take it anymore. He had been asked to step outside in that familiar way. He dropped his head for a moment and sighed. He felt her grip tighten up and he glanced to her, prepared for the encouraging words he always gave her before this.

This time he stopped before he spoke. She was looking at him, those large brown eyes were looking at him and they were so familiar.

He saw the same look facing him, surrounded by shadows and bruises. There was fear swimming there in her eyes as she seemed to plead with him not to leave her. In that moment he made up his mind.

They were done.

He wasn't going to subject her to any more tortures under the pretense of helping her. Ron stood up and told them this; told them they were done and he was taking her home. They argued of course, telling him he had no right to make that decision on her behalf and that she wasn't well enough to leave.

Ron did the only thing he could think to do to get his point across; he went to his mother for help. The woman was a notable force and it seemed that this was just what she needed to get her mind of Fred's death. The matriarch blew into the hospital; her voice could surely be heard on all floors of the building as she railed against the healers and any representatives that tried to oppose her.

In the end, it all came to the fact that Hermione had no family to make these decisions for her, but since Molly and Arthur were trusted as guardians while the girl was in the wizarding world. She even called McGonagall, who took time away from overseeing the school's reconstruction to come and testify to this fact. With that, Ron and his parents took Hermione home to the burrow.

X

* * *

X

"Boys!" Molly hollered from the kitchen, wiping her weathered hands on her apron. "Lunch is on!"

The woman took the last serving bowl to the table where Ginny was showing Hermione how to help set the table.

"This one, there." Ginny spoke kindly before holding out a plate for the older girl.

"Ok." Hermione responded after a moment of absorbing the instruction. She took the dish with her good hand and set it down where Ginny indicated.

"Great." Ginny praised, earning a smile from the girl, then held out a fork for her as well. "Now this, there."

Again Hermione reached with her right hand, but paused when Molly spoke up.

"Hermione." Molly got her attention.

Both girls looked at her and she laid a maternal hand on her left arm and nodded downward. Hermione cast her brown eyes down to her other hand which she kept nestled against her abdomen. Understanding what she was being told, Hermione bit her lip and slowly moved her hand to take the piece of silverware between the workable fingers of her left hand. With concentration and a slight shake in her digits she put the fork beside the plate; almost dropping it at the last minute.

She glanced to Molly for approval and receiving it with a smile and a nod. "That's a girl."

It was then that Ron appeared, ready to eat. Arthur was absent, needing to spend extra time at the ministry along with everyone else there working to undo the internal damage caused by the Death Eaters run of the place. Bill and Charlie, along with Harry, were helping late at Hogwarts. Then there was George…George who spent a lot of time in the room he'd shared with his twin for the whole of his life.

With just the four of them, it was the smallest dinner gathering the home had ever held outside of the months of the school year. The vacant seats caused a pang in Molly's heart. She forced is away, knowing she would dwell on it in the dark privacy of her bedroom when the day was over, and took a seat beside Ginny and across from where Ron sat next to Hermione. She gave a smile as she glanced at each of them.

"Eat up."

Ron happily obliged, reaching for the serving spoon and scooping a small pile of potatoes on Hermione's plate before giving himself a much larger helping. He did the same for the veggies and the roast.

Hermione waited a few moments, first watching the people around her begin to eat. Her eyes took in their movements, roaming from one Weasley to the next. She watched their hands, seeing how effortlessly they grasped and moved. She then looked down at her hand sitting in her lap. While she didn't understand everything, she understood well enough to know something was wrong and be self-conscious about it. With her eyes in her lap, Hermione slowly made a fist and found she was half successful.

She watched the two fingers remain unmoved, disobeying the order her mind sent. She unfurled the three fingers and tried again, and yet again was staring at an unfinished fist. Sucking in her bottom between her teeth, Hermione used her other hand to curl the limp fingers into her palm alongside the others and pressed on them to keep it that way.

It almost looked normal, but Hermione knew as soon as she pulled her right hand away it would unravel again.

"'Mione?"

Her head shot up to see Ron with a full mouth and concerned eyes. He swallowed what was in his mouth and continued.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly.

"Go on and eat up, dear." Now Molly spoke and Hermione nodded again.

She grabbed the cup in front of her for a drink. While putting it back, a tremor shook her right hand and was unable to keep a sufficient grip on it with her left. The cup hit the table at an angle and juice splashed over the worn tabletop. Reflexively, the two witches across from her pushed their chairs back to keep the liquid from spilling on them as it came toward the table's edge on their side. Hermione panicked at the mess and her eyes flashed over to Molly worriedly.

"It's fine. It's fine." She assured, waving her hand dismissively as she rose from her chair. She began wiping up the mess easily and giving the girl a smile. It was done as quickly as it happened and soon they all returned their focus to the meal.

Ron watched Hermione, realizing easily that she was upset. He put a hand over hers softly. He'd seen how hard she was working since her return from the hospital to try and do…everything. With this at the front of his mind, Ron gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

He tried to give her a smile, but her eyes only remained on their touching hands.

"Hey," he spoke to get her attention. It took a moment, but her head turned to face him. "you ok?"

Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she yanked her hand out from under his; her chair scraped loudly against the floor and Ron suddenly found himself staring at the closing front door.

"Hermione!"

Ron snapped out of his confused state when he heard his mother call out as she moved to the front door. His chair fell over backwards onto the floor with a bang as he bolted up. He ran by Ginny and his mother and went out the door to follow Hermione. The warm breeze ruffled his hair as he looked across the tall grass and saw the head of hair sticking out among it not far away.

He let out a sigh, relieved that she hadn't taken off too far and moved quickly until he was near enough to lower to sit beside her. He looked at her form, sitting in the grass with her legs folded up and her arms wrapped around them. Ron draped his elbows over his knees and tried to think of what to say. He could hear the sniffling effects of her tears and swallowed hard.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He tried. "Is this about the juice?"

She glanced at him with red, wet eyes. She pressed her lips together and he knew she was, again, trying; trying to figure it out…whatever _it_ was. He knew that when her emotions were running heavy, it was more difficult for her to concentrate on comprehension and speech.

No words came for a few minutes wherein she was obviously growing more upset. She clenched her teeth together and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Hermione, I…" he paused and ran a hand through his fiery locks and looked up at the sky, "I wish I knew what to do or….or what to say to make you feel better. An-And I don't mean physically better, more like, inside, you know? Um…"

He rubbed his hands uncertainly together as he tried to figure out how to explain himself right. He didn't know how to put what he was feeling into words, let alone words that he thought she would understand easily.

"I just, I want you to be ok." He shook his head, as if suddenly disagreeing with what he said. "I want you to be _more _than ok. I want you to be happy."

He took a steadying breath and put his eyes on her. She was looking at him now, the teardrops that remained on her cheeks slowly slid away.

"What's wrong?" His voice was a whisper now.

Hermione sniffled and bit her lip, looking down a heartbeat and then lifted her hand and showing him. Ron wasn't surprised as he saw the effected hand held out in front of him. He put on a small smile and nodded his head. Tenderly, he took the hand and held it in his. His eyes caressed it with his eyes before lightly running his finger down hers one by one with reverence.

Hermione watched his fingertip trail over her skin. At the moment he was sliding over her ring finger. She wished she could feel it but the nerves remained completely unresponsive to the touch. She let him turn her hand over next. Hermione's eyes focused only on where he held her hand, aware that he was talking but she couldn't focus on what he was saying. Al she knew was the tickling touch dancing over her palm.

A strange feeling stirred in her stomach. She continued to focus on his touch, his voice becoming a warm hum in the background as she did. She swallowed thickly, squirming in place when the fluttering in her stomach seemed to spread.

"Hermione?"

She gasped when her name followed by a gentle palm on her shoulder broke through the strange haze. She was flustered but managed to return Ron's smile this time.

"Can I show you something?"

Ron took her hand and walked them both to his mother's garden. He couldn't help but smile at her eyes taking in every bright color and blooming petal. It soon became that she was pulling him along by their clasped hands, leading him from one collection of plants to another. She stopped walking in front of the rose bush his mother was so proud of. She stayed in front of it, seeming to not have any desire to look at anything else.

"You like those?" He reached out and cupped his hand around the head of a near one, avoiding the thorns as he plucked it up. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

He held it out to her, placing it in her upturned palm. Hermione smiled as she carefully held it; almost as if she worried she would ruin it somehow. Her smile grew at his question and she nodded excitedly up and down.

"It's a rose."

She ran a finger over a smooth petal. Her voice followed with a wondrous whisper.

"Rose."

She looked up at him and their eyes met. His hands moved under hers, as if supporting it just in case. The two of them, already war veterans at their young ages, held eyes with one another as they stood in the garden with their hands almost touching. Ron's mouth went dry as he stared into the worlds of her brown eyes and he knew without question that he wouldn't be able to look away first.

Hermione felt that strange stirring feeling again in her stomach. She was looking up at him and felt…warm. She wanted to wrap that warmth around her and stay in it forever. She stepped nearer, thinking how nice it felt when he held her close. She moved close, her hand still holding the rose while his slowly moved, passing her wrists and forearms, as she moved towards him, to rest at her elbows.

She allowed his hands to cup her elbows softly while she came to a stop with her fingertips touching his chest as she kept the rose between them. Hermione brought her free hand up to his face and let her fingers run lightly up his cheek. He let out a small puff of laughter when he felt her hand run up into his hair. Returning the gesture, Ron slid his fingers over her temple, sliding through her hair and getting a shy smile and a pink hue to her cheeks in return.

"Ron!"

The moment broke when he heard his sister call his name over the breeze. The two looked back toward the Burrow to see Ginny coming towards them. When she was close enough to converse without shouting, she spoke.

"Harry's sent a message from Hogwarts." She informed, almost sounding breathless. "They've found something. It's for you; both of you."

"Us?" He questioned, already suspicious. "What is it?"

"Didn't say. All it said was for the two of you to come to Hogwarts. McGonagall is waiting at the grounds. Mum wants us all to go together."

Ron glanced at Hermione just a moment and then nodded at his sister. Hermione looked again at the flower in her hand and took it with her as they all walked back to the cozy house. Hermione spoke briefly to his mother about what exactly was said while Hermione went to the room that was designated hers and set the rose gently on the bedside table.

A soft smile returned to her face as she kept her eyes on it.

"Rose."

X

* * *

X

A short time later the group was at Hogwarts in what was left of the headmaster's office and Ron ran a hand through his hair and across the back of his neck as he tried to absorb what he was told.

As excited as he wanted to be, Ron was terrified to get his hopes up again about this. He looked from the acting Headmistress to his best friend as they watched him take in the information.

"Mister Weasley," the transfiguration professor got his focus. "It seems Miss Granger's trust in you puts you in the position to make this decision on her behalf."

"I…" He shook his head, trying to think. "Can I see it?"

Harry immediately handed over the parchment for Ron to read over for himself. It was there, plain as day in the old bat's handwriting. Snape's knowledge of the curse used on Hermione. The familiar slanted scrawl that so often scorned him on his homework detailed that the curse was an old dark magic that few wizards were powerful enough to successfully attempt. The fact that it was Voldemort himself that did this to her made Ron wish the villainous creature was alive just to be killed again.

It seemed that unlike what everyone assumed, it was as simple as Hermione having her memories erased or forgotten, but rather taken. Ron was no scholar, but he understood the painful point he was seeing written. Essentially everything that made up Hermione as she was known was quite literally torn from her mind and banished to some unknown ether, much like how he suspected the veil had done to Sirius what seemed like decades ago.

Snape wrote of a potion he'd translated from an ancient text that could reverse the curse.

At reading this Ron looked up at Harry and asked him: "Did you find the…"

Harry immediately held up a small vial to confirm that the potion had been found in the exact hiding spot Snape's letter had mentioned.

He read over the last of the letter, explaining that there had been no way to test the potion as there was no one else suffering from the curse. He warned of the risk of it possibly not working, although he was confident he'd don't the potion to the exact specifications listed. That was not what caused Ron pause about trying it, it was the next warning that he read.

"…_understand that reversing the process will undoubtedly be as painful for Miss Granger as receiving the curse was, possibly more so. Do not go into this with a light heart…."_

The rest of the letter was an apology for the circumstances that Hermione went through as well as instructions on how to administer the potion.

Ron handed it over to his curious mother and looked around the room as he tried to think. Harry and McGonagall were watching him with sympathetic expectancy. His mother was reading over the letter with teary eyes and over in the corner of the room, Ginny was sitting with Hermione as she was looking amazed at the moving portraits.

Molly finished and looked to Ron and then to Hermione. Her tears became more evident while looking at the girl and she folded up the letter and held it tightly.

"I can't…I can't decide this for her." Ron admitted terrified, memories of the healer's failed attempts to help her echoing through his mind. " I mean…I don't know if…"

He felt his mother put her hand on his shoulder and squeeze it almost painfully as she held on. She felt his pain; she understood his confusion as she held Hermione in her heart as if she were a child of her own.

Ron turned away from them and approached Hermione and Ginny. He immediately grabbed her attention and she gave him a smile before pointing toward the portrait she was so enthralled with.

"See?" She asked of him happily and he nodded.

"Hermione, I need to talk to you, ok? It's important."

Ginny backed away to give them space and get the whole story from the others in the room while they spoke. He took a breath and both of her hands.

"Hermione…" He took a another breath, " Hermione there's a way to make you better. Um, we can give you something, and it might make you…like you were before."

Hermione looked at him and he felt her hands tighten a bit around his when she spoke.

"Fix me?"

Ron nodded, and saw that she immediately smiled at the idea of being 'fixed'.

"The thing is…" He wanted her to have as informed a decision as possible. "It will hurt. It will hurt a lot to do it."

Her smile began to fade as this processed in her head. She didn't want to hurt. The hurt was only just beginning to stop. Sometimes she still felt it in places of her body. The idea of hurting again almost made her cry, but she thought of the rest of what Ron said.

She could be better. Maybe she could be like everyone else. Maybe she could be normal. Hermione let herself wonder what it would be like to be able to understand them all, to talk to them. She thought about Ron and how happy he would be. She thought about knowing things. Her eyes wandered over to the shelves nearby with the rows of books. What would it be like to open one and know how to read it?

"Hermione?" Ron asked, " Do you understand?"

She nodded and a new thought came as she looked at where he held her hands. She wanted to be better. She wanted to be better for Ron and for everyone. Squeezing her hands around his as much as she could, she looked in his eyes.

"Fix me."

The group went to the hospital wing where there was still some obvious destruction that hadn't been taken care of yet, and chose a bed for Hermione to use while Pomfrey administered the potion. Ron accompanied her, holding her hand as she nervously lay down and waited for it to start. To the right side of the bed, Pomfrey and McGonagall sat discussing what was about to happen. Pomfrey prepared to administer the necessary dose while McGonagall would be there to assist should it be needed.

"Alright now.' Pomfrey stated as she triple checked herself and the potion with her and approached the bedside. "Are we ready?"

Hermione looked at Ron and then back at the woman before giving a shaky nod. The woman then looked over to Ron who held Hermione's hand tighter and nodded. Without another word or action of hesitation Hermione was given the concoction. It had a terribly foul odor to it, so it was surmised that it didn't taste very good at all. The girl in the bed couldn't help her gag reflex that attempted to keep the liquid from being swallowed. It took a few minutes in which Ron already felt awful for her as the mere act of trying to take the potion was a difficult enough task that put tears in her eyes.

After a few more minutes, she'd finally taken in all she needed and managed to keep it down. Everyone around the bed waited anxiously for a sign that it was working, while at the same time fearing the reaction they were about to witness due to Snape's written warning. Minutes passed by without a breath of difference and Ron was beginning to wonder if maybe this was all just another let down.

Just as he was about to voice this thought, Hermione let out a sharp cry of pain and she arched up off the mattress. He called her name in fear and it went unheard. He knew he'd been warned that it would hurt her, but seeing it with his own eyes was different. She let out another agonized scream and her body lifted that much more, leaving her neck supporting her weight at an almost impossible angle. Ron feared it would break if she didn't relax soon.

When her body finally did fall back onto the mattress, her hands immediately went to her head, clawing and scratching as she continued to scream out the immense pain she was feeling. Tears poured down the side of her face and she curled onto her side, sobbing and screaming and praying for it to stop.

Ron was at her side, his own tears shamelessly falling down as he said her name in a desperate plea over and over again. He was tried to touch a hand on her for some kind of comfort, but the moment he came in contact, she released a new shriek and shrank away.

He thought he was going to die. This scene before him would sure be the cause of his death.

Merlin, what had he done? He should have known better. He shouldn't have put her through this pain. He didn't even want to think about the fact that this pain was a repeat of what she'd already had to endure at the hands of the dark dead wizard.

He looked to the others in the room and saw the bloodless faces looking upon her with the same look of heartbroken horror as he felt. Suddenly Hermione seemed to have been knocked on to her back by some unseen force and, with an airy puff of breath exiting her lungs, was silent and still.

Ron immediately ran to her, his heart refusing to beat until he had confirmation that she was ok. Her eyes were half open and vacant as they stared upward and Ron was floored to realize that her chest wasn't moving. He laid his hand over where her heart should've been beating.

"No." He whispered, painfully aware of the lack of life beneath his hand. There was nothing there. No heartbeat, no breath…no Hermione. His hands shook as he put them on her still face, brushing away the hair that had stuck in the sweat that came from her thrashing.

He was about to just give in to the bone-breaking sob that he was fighting when he the body jerked to life with a loud gasp.

Ron fell backward in surprise, landing hard on his backside where he immediately heard the sound of the huge panting breaths. He saw Pomfrey and McGonagall rush to the bedside. They were speaking but Ron didn't hear them over the loud gulps of air and the heavy hard beating of his heart.

He scrambled to his feet and went to the bedside where he saw the large exaggerated movements of her chest rising and falling below the wide eyes that ran over her surroundings for answers.

"Miss Granger? Can you hear me?" Pomfrey was trying to ask her, but the girl wasn't answering, or possibly not paying attention.

Ron nearly fell into the bed as he landed on his knees beside it and leaned over it to see her.

"Hermione!" He was crying again. "Oh Hermione. Please be alright. Please be ok!"

Turning her head towards him with graceless, jerking muscles, Hermione looked at the crying boy next to her. Tears were falling from her eyes, sliding out the corners and down to her ears.

"Ruh-Ron?" He looked her over and let out a laughing sob as he heard his name. . "It hurts. Ev-Everything hurts."

Her voice broke and Ron leaned close, cupping her cheek and pressing his forehead to hers.

"It's ok." He spoke as he closed his eyes, feeling her breath on his face and his tears falling down. "It's going to be ok."

"Ron, I'm…I'm so confused." She confessed in her cracking voice between heavy breaths. "My head…there's …there's so much happening...I don't-"

"Shh, don't worry about it." He suggested, clearing his throat and running his hand over her hair as he kept contact between their foreheads. He looked into her eyes and had to let out another relieved puff of laughter mixed in his tears. "I've got you now."

He kept his hand on her cheek and pulled back enough to press his lips to her forehead. He felt Hermione's hand cover his and grasp it and he looked back down to her eyes.

"Nothing is going to happen to you. Not ever again." He swore with more sincerity than he'd ever used in his life. "Do you believe me?"

She nodded and Ron returned the action just as feverishly.

"I missed you." She spoke shakily and heard Ron let out a sob in return.

Hermione suddenly felt the impulsive connection of his lips coming down upon hers. It was so overwhelmingly meaningful despite how brief it was.

She squeezed his hand as tight as she could and looked up at him as he repeated his words to her once more.

"I've got you now." He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I've got you."

**X**

**X**

**X**

**X**

**X**

**X**

**X**

**X  
A/N: And that's the show folks…..**

**Wow. I really hope you guys enjoyed this thing as a whole and are satisfied with the end point. **

**I've mentioned to a few people and will now say it here for everyone: Yes, I do have a sequel planned for this. Give me some time and you will be granted with the next chapter of this journey. I will post the announcement here on this story's page so anyone alerting it will know when it's ready to debut. So until we meet again in "Light Outside" I bid you all the fondest of farewells and thank each and every one of you for everything.**

**Thank you.**

**Mischief Managed.**


	35. SEQUEL ANNOUNCEMENT

**Hiya everybody!**

**Torch here to say that I have finally, FINALLY set you guys up with the sequel to this baby.**

_**Light Outside**_****** is now officially alive. **

**Before you head over there, I suggest everyone do one thing.**

**Go to youtube.**

**Go to the search bar**

**Type in : LIGHT OUTSIDE BY WAKEY!WAKEY!**

**You'll find the whole overall theme and emotion I'm aiming for in this song.**

**Can't wait to see what you guys think!**


End file.
